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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30124011">Ain't No Rest</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/icaruslaughed/pseuds/icaruslaughed'>icaruslaughed</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Western, Angst, Bittersweet Ending, DCRB21, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dean/Cas Reverse Bang 2021 (Supernatural), Gang Member Castiel (Supernatural), Gang Member Dean Winchester, Homophobic Language, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Lawboy!Sam Winchester, M/M, POV Dean Winchester, Period-Typical Homophobia, Torture, but it is happy, no beta we die like men</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 02:14:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>25,649</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30124011</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/icaruslaughed/pseuds/icaruslaughed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Former Hellspawn Dean Winchester finds himself drawn to the blue eyed man he meets at some crappy saloon in Assfuck, Nowhere. He reminds himself that things don't work out for him, that there 'ain't no rest for the wicked'. But what if this time could be different?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester, Minor Sam Winchester/Eileen Leahy, minor Dean Winchester/Benny Lafitte, past Dean Winchester/Cassie Robinson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Dean/Cas Reverse Bang 2021</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Well! Here we are folks: the end of these short few months. Man, this has been an AMAZING first bang, and a lot of it is thanks to my wonderful artist, TFWDuke. Duke, you were so wonderful to work with and I'm so happy we were paired up this year! Both your <a href="https://tfwduke.tumblr.com/post/646035303304462336/art-masterpost-for-aint-no-rest-by-icaruscastiel">art</a> and yourself are incredible! Thank you so much.</p><p>Also, a huge thanks to Aceriee, Superhoney, and Diamond for doing the reverse bang every year! You guys truly are amazing!</p><p>Lastly, you can find me on <a href="https://icaruscastiel.tumblr.com">tumblr</a> here, if you'd like!</p><p>And without further ado, your story.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    
  </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>Late 1890</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The chamber sat still, silent, almost holding its breath in anticipation. It knew.</p>
<p>It knew of the secrets whispered within its walls. It knew of the thefts and trades, measured not in currency but in the cost of a human soul. It knew.</p>
<p>Its inhabitants didn’t know all of the pieces to the gruesome puzzle, but they knew enough. They knew the chamber was their last line of defense against the monster on the prowl. The monster they helped create, the one who surpassed them all and became his own beast. The monster currently out for their heads. For <em> vengeance. </em> </p>
<p>The man they used to call the most righteous of all of them knew the whole story, as it was the story of him. He swore he would kill every last one of them, even if it killed him, too.</p>
<p>Men, thieves and traitors and tormentors, lurked in the shadows, hoping to be spared. Or, at the very least, to prolong their inevitable deaths. The doors flew open to reveal the silhouette of a man, a gun at his hip and a wicked dagger in each hand. Each step he took echoed through the room, but he could hardly hear it over the pounding in his ears, the white-hot rage blossoming in his chest. These were the people that took everything from him. And now they would pay.</p>
<p>A flash of a sharp blade in soft candlelight, the quiet <em> thud </em> of a body hitting the ground, and one man was already dead. “Oh, don’t be shy with <em> me. </em> Come out and play like real men,” the monster lurking at the door taunted. “Unless you’re scared. You kill all these people but one man leaves you pissing your pants? Pathetic.” He chuckled, the sound reverberating like an echo of a broken melody a damned soul screamed as it was dragged to Hell. Fitting. “But then again, I guess you all learned better than to fuck with little old me.”</p>
<p>One of the men lurking just outside of reach of the doors lunged for the monster, landing what sounded like it could have been a good punch. He took a blade to the heart before he could make another sound. “Who’s next?”</p>
<p>The room erupted into chaos, some trying to engage him in combat, others trying to flee. Those who tried to escape found their only exit blocked as the Righteous Man pulled the doors shut behind him with a huff of disapproval. “You can’t leave now,” he pouted, “the fun’s only just getting started.” From all sides, they came at him, punching and slicing, not daring to shoot in such close quarters. They dealt some damage, sure, but he just kept hacking away, leaving piles of corpses as he made to cross the room. Blood soaked into his clothing, staining his face and hands but he kept at it. It wasn’t his blood, after all.</p>
<p>Minutes or hours later, the Righteous Man stopped. Screams still echoed through his ears, and the occasional body still writhed in unparalleled agony. He silenced them with a knife through the heart. A mercy, more than they deserved, but he didn’t have the patience to drag it out. Bigger fish to catch, and all that.</p>
<p>A nasally laugh rang from the other end of the chamber, and the Righteous Man threw a blade in its direction. The sound of metal piercing flesh told him he hit his target. Taking a candle from one of the tables tucked against the wall, he carried it over to the man pinned to the wall by his shoulder. “Alistair,” the Righteous man grinned, “I’m going to take you apart nice and slow, and then I’m going to roast you extra crispy for Azazel to find. Give him a taste of his own medicine. Rather nice, don’t you think?”</p>
<p>Alistair laughed.</p>
<p>The Righteous Man smiled wickedly.</p>
<p>“Or, I suppose I could always let you go. Run home to daddy.”</p>
<p>“I don’t answer to anyone, you murderous cockroach.”</p>
<p>“Ooh, ouch. That one really hurt my feelings. You really do get creative when you’re mad,” he drawled sarcastically, slicing across Alistair’s abdomen, deep enough that he’d bleed out nice and slow, but not so much that his organs fell out. Shame. Those could have made nice decorations.</p>
<p>“Hold it right there, buddy boy,” a voice called from the far end of the chamber.</p>
<p>“Azazel! Oh but the fun was just getting started,” the Righteous Man called, “Shame you’re here to interrupt it.”</p>
<p>A gunshot rang off, deafening in the limited space, and the pain registered a moment later. A sharp, white-hot sensation in his abdomen. The next events were a blur through the haze of agony. Azazel running over and freeing Alistair. Trying to reach over and stop him. Azazel hefting an unconscious Alistair over his shoulder and taking off down the hallway.</p>
<p>He stumbled after them, falling to his knees in the middle of the room. In the middle of a puddle of blood and bodies. They were warm. If he didn’t know what it was or how it got there, it would have felt nice, the warmth. He knelt there, in the middle of what was once a throne room, taking in all the carnage he’d wrought upon a collapsed empire, led to the brink of extinction by his hand alone. He knelt in the middle of a kingdom brought to its knees and thought they had a lot in common, he and the kingdom. They would both meet an end of his doing. Once Azazel and Alistair were dead.</p>
<p>Pain swept over him in waves, each one pulling with it a shred of consciousness. The last thing the Righteous Man thought was: <em> So what if I die? </em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Alleyways</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Mid- 1991</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Half slumped over his cards in an effort to feign drunkenness, Dean Winchester found himself nursing a glass of shit whiskey in a crappy saloon in some backwater town a few miles from the Kansas- Oklahoma border. His ribs ached from the plunge he took off Baby, his horse, earlier that evening when he tied her up outside the saloon. Not one of his finest moments, sure, but worse had happened and hey, the night was young; “bad” still had the potential to qualify for “worse”. For now, he just had to focus on winning this game of poker. Easy enough.</p><p>His opponent took a long sip from his beer and placed his cards on the table. Dean almost laughed when he saw the hand. Three fives and two kings. “Not bad, pal,” he said, laying down four nines, “But good game.” He grinned. Alright, maybe the night wouldn’t be one of his worst. </p><p>“Fucking cheater,” the guy muttered as Dean scooped up his winnings. Yeah, he did cheat, but shit, you gotta do what you gotta do. And right now, he decided he’s gotta go order himself another glass of whiskey. </p><p>Sliding into a stool at the bar, he raised a hand to flag the bartender over and ordered another glass of whatever the fuck he got the first time around. As he waited on the drink, a dark haired man slid into the spot next to him. He seemed to pointedly ignore Dean, and that was just fine by him. He made enough off the last poker game to tie him over until tomorrow, by which point he’d already be to the next town if all went according to plan. So whatever the guy wanted - if he wanted anything - Dean wasn’t all that interested. That is, until the fucker had to turn and look at him.</p><p>The guy had a nice jawline and cheekbones, plus hair that practically screamed <em> I just had sex, </em> and on top of all that, he had the bluest fucking eyes Dean had ever seen. And he’d seen a lot, having spent his entire life on the road. Shit, if he were slightly less drunk - or slightly more, Dean had no idea - he’d write fucking poetry about the way he felt like he could drown in those eyes and not even give a damn.</p><p>Eventually, Dean realized he’d been staring. The guy just looked back at him, entirely unfazed. “Uh,” Dean said eloquently. “Can I help you?” Blue Eyes just looked him up and down, unimpressed, but it lit Dean’s gut on fire nonetheless. Hot Stuff drummed his fingers on the counter, smirking slightly and sending him a look with one eyebrow slightly raised which left Dean beyond real coherent thought. Then the guy had the audacity to turn away, meaning Dean couldn’t see his pretty face anymore. Fucker. “Alright then,” Dean muttered, taking a pointed sit from his glass in a feeble attempt at maintaining his rapidly crumbling resolve to not make a move. Before he could do anything else, however, he saw the guy he played earlier speaking with the bartender and pointing furiously over at him. </p><p>“He fucking cheated! Scammed me out of a week’s pay! Does that sound like a fucking fair game to you?” the guy - whose name Dean never bothered to learn - yelled. Dean almost felt bad for the bartender. That is, he would’ve, until he headed over to where Dean and the hot stranger sat. He looked almost guilty. Or maybe he just didn’t want to lose the business.</p><p>“Out,” he demanded. Then, turning on the stranger, he asked, “You with him?” to which the guy huffed a laugh and responded with a simple, “No,” in a low, rough voice that absolutely did not completely scramble Dean’s brain.</p><p>“Fuck,” Dean muttered. Save for a quick, “Fuck you, asshole,” called across the saloon, he left without much of a fight, if only because he heard his ex- opponent say something about why the fuck didn’t he get his money back and Dean wasn’t sticking around long enough to see if he would, in fact, get his money back. He let the saloon doors swing obnoxiously behind him, because, well, shit if he didn’t love being dramatic. On occasion.</p><p>As he neared the corner of the building and made to turn down the alley, a figure stepped in his path and a knife pressed to his throat. “You really thought you could leave without paying up? Shit, maybe you are as stupid as you look.”</p><p>It was dumb, in hindsight, to reply with, “Well then, if I’m stupid, you must be a fucking idiot if you lost to me,” especially since the person he took a jab at could very easily take a literal jab at his stomach. With a knife. Yeah, maybe he should’ve thought that through. Too late now. </p><p>“Don’t be a smartass. Just give me <em> my </em> shit, and we can both be on our way.”</p><p>Putting on his best sarcastic pouting face, Dean responded, “How ‘bout no?” He knocked away the hand holding the knife and reached into his pocket, holding out half the guy’s money. “I’d say half and half is fair.” Usually, he wouldn’t have bothered. But he really didn’t feel like fighting anyone. Hadn’t for a while. Not since… Didn’t matter. He waved the money at the guy who gave in and took it. <em> At least I made it through that fairly easy, </em> he thought as he walked past the guy. Turned out, he spoke too soon.</p><p>Before he knew it, Dean found himself flat on his ass, with what was probably going to be an ugly bruise forming on his cheek, while the guy dug through his pockets in search of the rest of the money. Fucker. As soon as he found it, he turned and ran off in the other direction and Dean’s head throbbed so bad he didn’t feel all that much like going after him. Shit. Bad really did get worse, didn’t it.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  
</p>
<p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He sat there, in the alley, for way longer than was necessary. He could walk just fine. His head didn’t hurt all that bad. He should go get Baby and make camp as far outside of town as he could get before he needed to pass out. He couldn’t, though. For whatever reason, he just couldn’t bring himself to get up.</p><p>Footsteps echoed in the dark, coming from what sounded like the saloon entrance. Dean couldn’t even focus enough to get on alert. The footsteps rounded the corner and lo and behold, it was the man from the bar. Dean almost sighed in relief before remembering he didn’t know jack shit about Blue Eyes. Hell, for all he knew, the guy could be here to rob him, too. Somehow, though, Dean didn’t think so.</p><p>The guy reached out a hand and Dean took it, helping the man pull him up. “Are you okay?”</p><p>“Yeah, ‘m fine. I’ll live, anyway,” Dean replied. “Who are you?”</p><p>“My name’s Jimmy.”</p><p><em> Never give anyone your real name if you’re on the run. </em> “Michael.” Dean shook Jimmy’s hand that he realized he was still holding. The tension between them grew, Jimmy’s hand still in his. He made the mistake of glancing at Jimmy’s mouth. He licked his lips. Jimmy did the same. They kept staring at one another. The minutes ticked on.</p><p>Finally, Dean grabbed him by the lapels and pulled him in. He had no idea what possessed him to do so, in that moment, but Jimmy kissed him back just as hard and suddenly the <em> how </em> or <em> why </em> didn’t matter anymore. Just the <em> what. </em> They carried on like that for a few minutes, Dean’s lips parting to make way for Jimmy’s tongue. The night was silent, save for their ragged panting as they broke apart to catch their breath. Jimmy stared at him with something akin to awe in his expression, and Dean had a feeling it was reflected on his own face. He tipped his head back to rest against the bricks, and Jimmy took it as an opportunity to kiss down his neck, muttering, “I’m gonna suck you off.” He didn’t though, and Dean realized he was waiting for the all clear. He moaned, hoping Jimmy would get the message.</p><p>He did. Jimmy worked open Dean’s pants and Dean pulled him in by the collar for a kiss which Jimmy broke as he dropped to his knees. The sight was nearly divine, as divine as anything could be to a faithless man. Jimmy gave his cock a couple of light strokes, subsequently driving Dean insane. All he could do was write against the filthy wall of the alley and tell Jimmy to get on with it, to which Jimmy just smirked. As soon as he wrapped his lips around the head of Dean’s cock, he was lost to the world.</p><p>“Shit, ah, fuck,” he hissed, clapping a hand over his mouth and sinking his teeth into his palm to keep from crying out when Jimmy swallowed around him. Not as if he had much in the way of coherent thought to spare dwelling on it, but Dean had to admire Jimmy’s skill. After growing up turning tricks to feed his kid brother, he’d acquired certain abilities, learned what got johns to get it over with the quickest. Jimmy seemed to have a similar skill set. </p><p>Dean hoped that wasn’t how the guy thought of him: just another john to get off and get away from as soon as possible. He didn’t know why, exactly. Maybe it was all his experience in that department that made him want this to genuinely be good for Jimmy. His entire train of thought was abandoned, however, when Jimmy took him all the way down, flicking his tongue over the sensitive spot on the underside of his cock on the way back up. Dean slid a hand into Jimmy’s hair, pulling at the short strands slightly. Jimmy hummed around his dick and shit, if that wasn’t the best thing Dean had felt in a long time. It felt so good, in fact, that it took only another minute before he blurted out a quick warning, then came down Jimmy’s throat.</p><p>Dean slid down the wall and found himself kneeling in front of Jimmy, whose dick looked painfully hard in his pants. Dean undid Jimmy’s pants and jacked him off, tact sloppy with post- orgasmic haze. Jimmy came not long after, seemingly less disoriented than Dean had been and Dean began to feel a little guilty. That is, until Jimmy fastened his pants, pulled him in for a brief but heated kiss, and walked off without so much as a second glance. Dean could do nothing but watch him go, still kneeling on the cold ground, pants completely open.</p><p>“Fuck.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <a href="https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/786680559669608448/822166425699352626/Illustration21.png">  </a>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>At some point, he got up. He got up and he fetched Baby and he found a place to camp about a ten minute ride from town. Dean set up a fire, tied Baby to a tree nearby, and, making sure his clothes wouldn’t catch fire in his sleep, finally passed out.</p><p>He was woken a few hours later to the sound of saddlebags being dragged across the ground and a rough voice comforting a horse. Still tired, he tried to pretend to be asleep so he could figure out what the hell was happening, but the sudden silence of the other person present indicated they knew he was awake. Sighing, he shifted to try to look at the asshole that decided to come rob him in the middle of the night. Said asshole had apparently walked over to crouch next to his head. Dean groaned and rolled onto his back, glancing up at the thief.</p><p>And found himself starting into the brilliant blue eyes of that fucker from the alley.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Counting Sunsets</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“The hell do you want?” he sneered, still half asleep. He jerked to attention, however, when he noticed the rope binding his wrists. “The fuck is this? You here to rob me or something?”</p><p>“No, I don’t want your money. I’m here on orders to bring you in,” Jimmy told him. </p><p>“So, what? You an officer? Don’t see any badge on you. Didn’t earlier, either.”</p><p>“That’s because I don’t have one. I’m not an officer; I’m to bring you to Angel headquarters.”</p><p>“Like, <em> the </em> Angels?” Jimmy nodded in affirmation. “Damn, I figured you were better than that, Jimbo. You? Bosom buddies with the most self righteous dicks in the whole country? Shit, man. Thought you were better’n that,” he repeated. </p><p>“Yeah, well, I guess I’m not better than jack shit,” Jimmy snapped, his face forcefully clear of all emotion. “And from what I’ve heard, you’re not all that much better. Word is you rode with the Demons for <em> years. </em> Hell, it’s the reason I’m supposed to bring you in. Everyone seems to think you’ll have useful information.”</p><p>“What, you don’t think so, Jimmy?” Dean huffed, trying to subtly free his wrists from the binding.</p><p>“I think even if you did know something, your head’s so far up your ass we wouldn’t be able to tell if you’re actually full of shit or full of yourself. Same thing, really, but I digress. Still, orders are orders.” Jimmy gave a noncommittal shrug and set about packing up Dean’s shit.</p><p>As much as his ego stung, Dean couldn’t help but be relieved. If Jimmy thought he was useless, it meant he didn’t know the whole story. Stupid son of a bitch probably thought he just left the Hellspawn of his own volition. Peacefully. If only that were the truth. Dean didn’t regret a thing except for the fact he was forced to leave a couple alive, but he still hated to think about it. Sometimes, in his nightmares he saw them and <em> he just kept hacking away, leaving piles of corpses as he made to cross the room. Blood soaked into his clothing, staining his face and hands, but he kept at it. It wasn’t his blood, after all. </em> But he wasn’t sleeping, and he had more pressing matters to worry about. So he shoved the memory aside as best as he could, and resumed pulling at the ropes around his wrists. </p><p>Dean debated shooting back one of his famous witty retorts, but decided against it. Best to let Jimmy distract himself with packing so Dean could escape unnoticed. Eventually, he got the ropes off, but right as he slipped them off his wrists, Jimmy <em> looked </em> at him with that piercing blue gaze. Like he knew.</p><p>Except there was no way he could possibly know, so Dean just glared at him and Jimmy resumed his work. Waiting a couple seconds to make sure Jimmy wasn’t paying attention, Dean shot up and made a run for Baby, still tied to that tree. <em> “Shit,” </em> Dean realized, <em> “It’ll take too long to untie her.” </em> He changed course, running past her and into the trees where Jimmy would have a hard time following on horseback, and, given that Dean had a solid head start, Jimmy probably wouldn’t be able to catch up on foot. Dean’d just have to go back for Baby later.</p><p>Glancing over his shoulder occasion, Dean sprinted through the underbrush, never once seeing Jimmy anywhere behind him, which he took as a good sign. Looked like the guy didn’t even <em> try </em> to go after him.</p><p>And then - of <em> course, </em> fuck his luck - Dean found himself pinned to the ground, a gravelly voice cursing him out so colorfully even Dean had to appreciate it. And then the world went black.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Forehead bouncing against the back of whoever sat in front of him, Dean blinked his way back into consciousness. Through the blinding sunlight and nagging headache, he realized it was <em> Jimmy </em> he shared a horse with. He tried to scramble away before remembering that he was sharing a <em> horse </em> with Jimmy and therefore would probably not do so well to try and get away, not at the speed they were going. </p><p>“Where’s Baby?,” he demanded.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Baby. My- my horse. Is she okay? Did you fucking <em> leave her-” </em></p><p>“No, your horse is fine. If you turn around, you’ll <em> see </em> that she’s just fine and you need to calm the fuck down,” Jimmy snapped. Dean didn’t even dare to answer, instead turning around and confirming that Baby was, in fact, following along. Jimmy had apparently tied her to his horse. Jimmy had <em> also </em> tied Dean’s hands up again. Around his waist. Well then.</p><p>Memories of the alley from the night before came to mind and Dean tried to shove them down. Yeah, sure, that was fucking awesome but he didn’t need to be thinking about all that in such close proximity to the subject of said memories. Speaking of which, was that even the previous night? How long had they been riding? The sun hinted at just past midday, but Dean knew from experience that midday could be <em> any </em> day. He could’ve been unconscious for days. “How long was I out?”</p><p>“A few hours.” Not days, then. That’s a start.</p><p>“Where are we going?”</p><p>“Headquarters.”</p><p>“How long will that take?”</p><p>No answer. <em> “Well,” </em> Dean thought. <em> “This is going to be one long fucking</em> trip.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Guy’s not allowed to fucking piss now, is that it?” Dean snapped, sticking his leg out to try and trip Jimmy in a last- ditch effort to be petty. “Because I swear to fucking God if you don’t let me go right fucking now, I <em> will </em> piss on you and your horse.”</p><p>Stepping gracefully over his outstretched leg, Jimmy huffed and reached for Dean’s hands. “You can’t blame me for being cautious, given how you escaped last time,” he snapped back. Jimmy made like he was actually going to untie Dean’s wrists, then backed up just before he started untying them. “On second thought,” he deadpanned, “I think you can figure out how to relieve yourself like that.”</p><p>“Go to Hell, asshole.”</p><p>“Already been,” he replied. His face remained entirely blank, but his tone was that of someone who truly <em> had </em> been to Hell. Reminding himself that he didn’t care, Dean shoved Jimmy away from him, and shuffled petulantly into the woods, stopping when he thought he was blocked from view by the trees. Struggling to undo his pants on account of his hands being tied together, he glanced back over at their camp only to find Jimmy watching closely. Not him, specifically; he didn’t think Jimmy could see <em> him, </em> but he had a feeling Jimmy knew exactly where he was and would definitely notice if he made a break for it. Shit.</p><p>Dean sighed and went about business as usual, debating taking off one he was done. Jimmy had Baby and it wasn’t like he could get very far without the use of his arms. Besides, he didn’t know where the nearest town was and he didn’t have any food or weapons. Or water. No, if he ran off, he’d either get caught and receive one of the biggest shiners of his life, or he’d die out in the middle of nowhere with no one to get word out to Sam. </p><p>Not like Sam cared either way. He said as much before leaving for the West. He and Dean had been talking about it for a while, and Dean knew it was best for Sammy to let him go off, get an education, go be someone. He knew it was best to get Sam as far away from their dad as possible. So outwardly, he agreed. He even offered to help pay for the kid’s schooling, should he decide he still wanted to go down that path. But there was always the selfish part of him that didn’t want Sam to go. He didn’t want to be left alone, and certainly not with his dad. But Sammy needed this, he <em> wanted </em> this, so Dean let him go.</p><p>There was a fight, though, that night he left. John didn’t take so well to the idea of Sam leaving and <em>"</em><em>giving up on avenging Mary,” </em> and Sam didn’t take so well to John’s claim that he was giving up. Dean, of course, was caught in the middle, which ended with him having to side with his father just to save his own hide. Even so, it still didn’t prevent him from receiving the beating of a lifetime. Sam didn’t know all that, since he left before it could happen. He still left Dean with a few parting words that Dean immediately internalized, of course. He was a fucking coward, and he betrayed his little brother, and Sam didn’t give a single fuck as to whether he lived or died. It was crystal clear that Sam wanted nothing to do with him, and Dean knew he deserved it.</p><p>He paid for Sam’s college anyways.</p><p>Then his dad died and he was left with no one to care if he lived or died, or what he did. He still paid for Sam’s college.</p><p>Then the money ran out and he joined the Hellspawn to make more. To pay for Sam, of course. And everything happened and he ended up here. Pissing on a tree for an audience of one who was only there to make sure he didn’t get away. Sighing, Dean fastened his pants and walked back to the camp where the only person who cared about his existence - for any reason at all - waited for him.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The next few days passed slow as shit, to say the least. As far as Dean could tell, they were heading for New Mexico, but Jimmy had seemed to deliberately avoid any town they happened to pass if only so Dean <em> couldn’t </em> figure out where they were. Guy’s smart, Dean had to give him that. Hell, if he were escorting a former higherup of the gang that posed the greatest threat to his own, he’d be pretty fucking cautious about keeping the location of his headquarters secret, too. Still, it was frustrating, spending days on horseback with what he was sure was the <em> worst </em> company ever.</p><p>The sun sank ever lower in the sky, casting an array of beautiful pastel colors across the clouds. Considering Dean may find himself counting his sunsets pretty damn soon, this evening’s was certainly one that deserved a moment’s appreciation. He didn’t get to take that moment, however, since Jimmy turned his horse off the path and dismounted by a stream. “We’re camping here tonight,” was all he gave in the way of an explanation.</p><p>Dean sighed but guided Baby over to where Jimmy had set about tying up his own horse. Dismounting clumsily, as he still hadn’t quite gotten used to doing so with both hands bound in front of him, he tugged at the rope tying him to Jimmy’s horse. “Either you untie me, or you tie Baby up yourself. Say what you want about me, but I’d really rather she didn’t run off in the middle of the night because someone was too much of a jackass to look after a fucking horse,” Dean said, giving the rope another tug just to be annoying.</p><p>Jimmy rolled his eyes and untied the rope chaining him to Jimmy’s horse, tossing it over to him to use for Baby. When Dean pointedly held up his bound wrists, Jimmy just told him to, “Make do.” And he did, thank you very much. Dean was nothing if not resourceful, after all. Dean let Jimmy get the fire going since he wouldn’t be much help with his hands tied. He could help with dinner though, he supposed.</p><p>Dinner was fucking beans. Again. Days and days of just fucking beans. That shit gets old fast. Dean said as much, too. </p><p>“Well, beans are all we have so either you shut up and eat or you fucking starve,” Jimmy halfheartedly snapped. It seemed like he was getting sick of beans, too.</p><p>“Shit, Jimbo, can’t a man request a little variety in his meals?” Dean grinned. </p><p>“Castiel.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“It’s Castiel. My name. Not- not Jimmy.”</p><p>“Castiel, huh?” Dean asked, trying out the name, seeing how the syllables fit on his tongue. “Why’re you telling me that? Why’d you even bother with a fake name anyways?”</p><p>“It’s safer that way. Castiel isn’t exactly a common name, and I couldn’t take the chance of you remembering it. But now, I suppose, it’s only fair that you know my name since I know yours, Dean Winchester,” Castiel shrugged, and Dean decided right then and there he liked the way it sounded coming from Castiel’s lips. That is, until he remembered giving Castiel a fake name.</p><p>“How do you know my name?”</p><p>“You really believed that I was sent to find you without so much as a full name and description? I know you believe the Angels to be self righteous dicks, but we do run a tight operation.”</p><p>“Oh yeah? The hell do you guys even do?”</p><p>“We- we exact justice on sinners who are unwilling to repent.” It sounded rehearsed. Like he didn’t believe it.</p><p>“Don’t bullshit me, J- Castiel. You’re not considered the Hellspawns’ equals for nothing. I’ve heard stories of what you’ve done, the towns you left in ruins because your policy is ‘convert or die’. You claim to be saints but you lot are still wanted criminals all the same,” he hissed.</p><p>Castiel appeared to sink into himself, just a little, before getting up and shoving Dean out of anger. “Yeah? Like you fucking demons are that much better. You steal and you violate and you torture and you slaughter just for the hell of it. You destroy for destruction’s sake. At least we deliver justice.”</p><p>“Justice for fucking what? For sin? Cut the crap. At the end of the day, you and the god squad steal and slaughter just as much as we did, you fuckers just do it in the name of religion. You know what? God’s a dick and so are all of you,” Dean yelled, standing to land a solid punch to Castiel’s jaw.</p><p>Castiel punched him right back, leaving his head spinning and his nose dripping blood. “‘Did’? <em> ‘Did’? </em> Are you fucking serious? You act like you’re better than me because your servitude is in the past, but the Hellspawn are still out there and they’re still doing everything you accuse the Angels of doing and worse, so much-”</p><p>“They’re not,” Dean responded coolly.</p><p>“What the fuck does that mean?”</p><p>“It <em> means, </em>” Dean hissed, realizing he’d come too close to telling the whole truth - why the fuck did he care what Castiel thought? - and trying to backtrack, “It means they disbanded. I left and there might be a couple still out there but the rest of them are… They disbanded.”</p><p>“Right.”</p><p>“Drop it.”</p><p>“There’s no-”</p><p>“I said <em> drop it.” </em></p><p>Castiel shook his head in exasperation and sat back down on the log they’d been using as a makeshift bench. He kept shifting around uncomfortably for a few minutes, then got up and set up his bedroll without a word. Dean guessed he was trying to ignore him. It clearly wasn’t working if the looks the guy shot him every now and then meant anything. Dean tried to ignore them in return, looking instead to the rapidly fading colors in the sky, but soon enough those were gone and he had to face the reality that was staring at him with brilliant blue eyes.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Cabin Fever</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> The first time Dean arrived at Hellspawn headquarters, he laughed aloud at the name. Hell? Really? So fucking cliche. He almost doubled over in laughter until he realized Azazel and Alistair were dead serious. In time, though, he grew to appreciate the name in its accuracy. If there was a Hell on earth, the demons made sure that this was it. </em>
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  <em> And now, he’d decided, it was time he made it Hell on earth for them in return. </em>
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  <em> He strolled right into that dark, candlelit chamber as if he were taking a walk in the fucking park, a murderous grin maring his features. He called out to the demons lurking in there, daring them to come out and fight him. And then when they did, he slaughtered them all. Well, almost all of them.  </em>
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  <em> There was the slick thud of a knife sinking into flesh and Alistair was pinned to the wall. He coughed up blood, and Dean sliced into him over and over and over until a puddle of blood formed at his feet and his shoes were sticky with it. It was only then that he stopped, pulling a matchbox out of his pocket and lighting one. “Let’s see how you like it on the receiving end, you bastard,” he whispered, his voice warped and gravelly. Almost truly demonic. He struck a match and held it to Alistair’s cheek, grinning when he cried out in agony. “Not so fun now, is it?” </em>
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  <em> Dean laughed as Alistair screamed. He laughed until it put out the match and in the sudden darkness a gunshot rang out. It hit his shoulder, his leg, his hip all at once and he cried out as he collapsed onto the solid ground. Azazel loomed over him, eyes unnaturally yellow. By the time Dean figured out why, the golden flames licked over his body, leaving him writhing on the stone. Alistair, suddenly healed of all his wounds, joined Azazel and kicked Dean forcefully in the head. Together they kicked him, stomped on his fingers, broke his legs, all while the flames engulfed him and their laughter echoed through the chamber in place of his own. He screamed and he screamed and he wondered if this was how his mother felt- </em>
</p><p>Dean woke up gasping for air, laying under the stars in the middle of fucking nowhere. Not in Hell. <em> Not </em> in Hell. He sat up and reached for his flask, taking a long pull before screwing on the cap and tossing it back into the dirt. “Shit,” he muttered to himself.</p><p>Apparently, it was enough to wake Castiel up. “Dean? The hell are you doing? Not trying to escape are you?”</p><p>“No I just… woke up. Got thirsty, is all.”</p><p>Castiel eyed him suspiciously, but rolled over. Dean thought he fell back asleep, but after a while he asked, “Bad dream?”</p><p>“Yeah.” Dean tried to catch his breath. “Something like that.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The afternoon sun relentlessly beat down on Dean’s neck, leaving him sweaty and probably sunburned, and he’d been saying as much all day. He could tell that Castiel was suffering, too, by the slump of his shoulders and the way his hands twitched on the reins as if he wanted to wipe the sweat off his brow but didn’t want to reveal that he agreed with most of Dean’s griping. Eventually, Dean supposed, even the strongest will must break.</p><p>“We need to find somewhere to stop soon,” Castiel said calmly, and Dean was grateful he even said something at all.</p><p>“Where?” He looked around for a clearing or a stream but saw nothing. Then, “Is that a road?” Roads - not trails, which is what they’d kept to the past few days - meant towns and food and nice places to sleep.</p><p>“No,” Castiel replied and Dean’s spirit was crushed until he added, “but it looks like a path to a house.” A house meant, at the very least, people who may be willing to let them stay a night, or even feed them for a small sum of money. Both of them urged their horses faster, curious and hopeful as to what they’d find. Turning down the road, they rode for a couple minutes before stumbling upon a… cabin. </p><p>“Well then,” Dean huffed, slowing Baby to a trot. Castiel kept on ahead before disappearing for a moment, then returned into view without his horse. Dean figured there was a stable up ahead, too. That was a really good thing; Baby could use a good night’s rest just as much as he could.</p><p>“I think it’s abandoned,” Castiel called. Upon closer inspection, he seemed to be correct.</p><p>“Yeah, no shit,” Dean laughed, sliding off Baby and walking her to the stable. The stalls, while still <em> there </em>, had fallen into disrepair and entire wood planks were missing from stall doors. Admittedly, nothing too bad. The cabin itself was another matter. The front porch was missing a few beams, the railing had collapsed on itself entirely, and the front door hung from broken hinges. As he followed Castiel inside, Dean could see holes in the roof and a few more in the walls where bugs had gotten to them, but at least it didn’t look like it would collapse at any second. Fortunately, the bedroom was separate from the rest of the cabin, but Dean decided he could check it out later. The top priority was dinner, then sleep, since the sun would be going down in an hour or so anyway.</p><p>The kitchen proved to be useful, with bread and a couple cans of beans in a cupboard. Not much, but having food was better than not. Dean’s stomach grumbled obnoxiously, and he could see Castiel try and stifle a laugh. “Yeah, like you’re so much better off,” he said, shoving Castiel with his hips. “Come on, help me cook.”</p><p>They each set off to do their respective tasks, and Dean made it as far as getting the beans from the cabinet before realizing there was a problem. “Hey, uh, you think you could untie me?” Castiel glared at him. “Seriously, Castiel? It’s not like I’m gonna do anything - I’ve proven that much - and what reason do I have to run off? There’s food here and probably a bed and you can keep track of me easily ‘cause we’re gonna be in the same building all night. Please, Castiel. Just for one night?”</p><p>Castiel stared at him. He turned as if he was going to ignore Dean, then set down the knife he was using to slice the bread. He turned back to Dean. And stared at him. And stared some more. Finally, “Fine. But I’ve got my eye on you.”</p><p>As Castiel freed first one hand, then the other, Dean rubbed at his wrists where the rope left marks and muttered, “Yes, sir.” Castiel glared up at him, then went back to slicing bread so fast it almost gave Dean whiplash. So he rolled his eyes and opened the beans with Castiel’s knife that he stole from the counter, trying to process whatever the hell just happened. They worked in comfortable silence, the sounds of a knife on stale bread filling the air.</p><p>Dean couldn’t help but long for this. The quiet moments where you and somebody else just go about business as usual. When you know each other better than anyone else, better than even yourself. He didn’t pretend to know Castiel like that, but what if- what if he did? Dean had met a girl or two that made him want to settle down, give up on the family business, but he never did. His father dragged him out of town or she found out he wasn’t good for anything but hustling and leaving. </p><p>Cassie was like that. He met her years ago, stayed with her for a couple weeks. He wanted to stay longer. Hell, he wanted to stay forever, if she would have let him, but young love never lasts. He thought he got out, he thought his dad and his life were far behind him but you can’t escape a thing like that. In all his years on the road, it’s one of the few things he learned. His dad rolled into town and the truth about who he was got to Cassie and she told him to get the hell out and never come back. That she regretted ever shacking up with a fucking monster. She was right. </p><p>He never thought about staying with anyone longer than a quick fuck and a shitty excuse after that.</p><p>This, though, with Castiel? Something in the way they worked alongside one another in harmony, moving gracefully around each other as they set up a table as if they’d been doing it for years reminded him of his time with Cassie. It reminded him of home. He longed for it, he <em> yearned </em> for it, even though he’d only known Castiel for a few days.</p><p>They sat down and Castiel clasped his hands as if to pray, then shook his head minutely as if he thought better of it. Instead, they dug into their dinner. As he ate, Dean told himself again and again that it wasn’t Cassie. It wasn’t home. He’d known Castiel for only a week. They met in a shitty saloon and Castiel blew him in the alley out back. Castiel captured him with orders to bring him to the Angels, who probably wanted him dead because he used to be a Hellspawn. Castiel probably wanted him dead. Castiel <em> would </em> want him dead if he knew the whole truth. Dean slaughtered dozens of people in the name of revenge. He tortured hundreds more riding with the Hellspawn. Dean was a bad person, and he didn’t deserve jack shit, least of all to be saved from himself by an Angel. Nothing could ever happen between them because Dean didn’t deserve it.</p><p>He finished his meal, and set the dishes on the counter. <em> You don’t deserve a life with him. </em> Castiel did the same. <em> You don’t deserve his kindness. </em> Dean looked up at Castiel, and Castiel smiled softly back at him. They sat like that, in the comfortable stillness, for a few minutes. <em> You don’t deserve his trust. </em> Dean ran a finger over the red skin on his arm where the rope had rubbed it raw and wondered why Castiel did decide to let him free, if only for the night. What had he done to earn that trust? That faith? What had he done to earn any of it?</p><p>Glancing down at his wrists, Dean asked, “Why do you trust me?” He hoped Castiel understood he meant more than just about the rope.</p><p>Apparently, he did. “I don’t know why I trust you so much. I just do.” And that was that.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>As it turned out, there was only one bed in the cabin. Big enough to hold two grown men, but barely. Dean joined Castiel a few minutes after he went off to get ready for bed, stripping off most of his layers and crawling beside Castiel under the blanket.</p><p>Dean didn’t sleep. He pretended to. He laid there for what felt like an eternity, but he couldn’t seem to fall asleep with Castiel <em> right there.</em> Judging by the uneven breathing coming from the other side of the bed, Castiel found himself in a similar predicament. Or maybe the dude just had insomnia. Only one way to find out.</p><p>He kept his eyes closed and his breathing steady in order to be able to feign sleep if his plan failed. He hoped it wouldn’t. Dean rolled onto his back, letting his arm fall a <em> little </em> further across the bed than strictly necessary, and found the tips of his fingers resting against Castiel’s back and <em> holy fuck he was a lot closer that Dean originally thought. </em> At least it made his job easier. </p><p>He shifted his hand to rest more solidly along Castiel’s spine, and Dean was fairly sure he heard Castiel’s breath hitch. Could’ve just been him, though. He continued nonetheless. Turning to face Castiel ever so slightly more, he slid his leg to rest between Castiel’s. An action that could be easily explained by being a restless sleeper, if need be. Perhaps he’d need to use that excuse sooner than he thought.</p><p>“Dean,” Castiel whispered, voice even lower than usual, breathing unsteady. Maybe he wouldn’t need to use the excuse at all. “What are you doing?”</p><p>Sliding his leg further across Castiel’s waist, he whispered back, “What do you think I’m doing?”</p><p>The room was silent for a moment, filled only by the sound of their breathing. </p><p>Then, breathlessly, <em> “Dean.” </em></p><p>“Tell me to stop,” Dean pleaded, but God, how he hoped Castiel wouldn’t. Because if he was told to, he would stop. But shit if he didn’t want to.</p><p>Castiel didn’t tell him to stop, though. Instead, he replied with a simple, “No.” Then, grabbing Dean’s wrists, he flipped them over and pinned Dean’s hands above his head. Dean could almost feel the places the ropes used to be, where Castiel’s hands now rested, and he decided he liked this version of things a hell of a lot better. “I fucking hate you, Dean Winchester,” Castiel whispered in his ear in a way that suggested he was actually only probably mildly irritated at the moment, nipping at Dean’s earlobe and causing a shiver to run down his spine. </p><p>“Yeah? Why?”</p><p>Castiel boxed him in with his knees and elbows, tantalizingly close but not quite there all at once. “Because you’re a dick,” Castiel murmured against his neck, pressing a kiss to the spot where his breath ghosted over Dean’s skin. “And rude,” another kiss, “And annoying,” another, “And you’re such a fucking <em> tease.” </em> He nipped at Dean’s neck, then immediately soothed the spot with his tongue and Dean had to bite back a whine. </p><p>“You’re one to talk, Cas,” he breathed.</p><p>Castiel seemed to take that as a challenge, briefly pressing down on his wrists harder and barking at him the order, “Don’t move,” which had all of Dean’s blood rushing straight to his dick. Dean nodded slightly in an effort to appear as if he still had any composure whatsoever. Castiel licked and kissed and sucked his way down Dean’s chest and Dean, to his credit, managed to stay mostly still. All bets were off, however, when Castiel found his nipple.</p><p>“Shit, Cas!” he hissed eloquently, arching his back and clasping his hands together above his head to keep from moving them. “Holy fuck.” </p><p>“You like that,” Castiel observed, running his fingers over the sensitive nub. Dean let out a small moan. “A lot.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Dean gasped.</p><p>“Hm.” Castiel grinned.</p><p>“Cas,” Dean whined. “Please.”</p><p>“Please what?” he smirked. Dean figured Castiel knew just as well as he did, which is not much at all.</p><p>“Oh, fuck me,” he huffed, getting impatient. Castiel simply stared at him, resuming his ministrations. It wasn’t until his hands found their way to Dean’s thighs that Castiel breathed, “As you wish.”</p><p>He froze for a moment, though, still just staring at Dean with that piercing blue gaze, and Dean realized he was waiting for <em> him </em> to say something. “Yeah, yes, please, Cas.”</p><p>At that, Castiel smiled ever so slightly and wrapped a hand around his cock to line himself up. Dean was so distracted by the way his hand looked so beautiful, fingers so long and slender, that it wasn’t until Castiel was about to push in that he gasped out, “Wait, hold on.” Castiel looked at him, questioning, and instead of actually answering, Dean grabbed Castiel’s other wrist and pulled his hand to his mouth. Castiel got the hint and slipped two of his fingers into Dean’s mouth, letting him suck and swirl his tongue around the digits. As much as he wanted Castiel to fuck him, he still whined when Castiel withdrew his fingers and shoved them roughly up his ass. <em> “Cas,” </em> he half- screamed, not even caring because the burn felt <em> so good </em> and fuck did he miss this. It had been months, if not years, and, fuck. Dean really fucking missed it.</p><p>Castiel split him open, and when he finally, <em> finally </em> pushed in, their groans filling the air, Dean felt whole again. They sat there for a moment, just taking it in. Dean didn’t know if Castiel did it for him or not, but he was grateful for the chance to adjust nonetheless. Then Castiel pulled back out ever so slightly and slammed back in, then again, and again, and Dean swore he already reached Heaven’s gates.</p><p>Dean was near out of his mind when Castiel gripped his waist tight and flipped them over, helping Dean back into place. “Ride ‘em, cowboy,” he whispered, emphasizing it with a roll of his hips, and Dean’s mind truly went blank.</p><p>Once they had both tumbled over the edge, Castiel rolled over onto his back and Dean followed, cozying up against his chest and burying his face in Castiel’s neck. They just laid there for a moment, basking in the afterglow, stealing one another’s heat.</p><p>“You were wrong, Dean,” Castiel eventually said, running his fingers down Dean’s arm.</p><p>“About what?”</p><p>“About what you said the other day. About how the only difference between Angels and demons is that we do- we do all these horrible things in the name of God.”</p><p>“Cas, that was days ago. We were fighting. It didn’t mean-” Dean tried to reassure him.</p><p>“Just- just let me say this. Please.” Dean nodded. Castiel smiled.  “I’m not a… hammer, as you would say. I have questions, I have doubts. I don’t know what is right and what is wrong anymore, but… I don’t think what the Angels do is right. Or righteous. Or holy. Or any of the things we claim it to be. I think-”</p><p>“You think what?” Dean prompted.</p><p>“I think we lost sight of our true mission long ago. We set out to help people, not kill them for our beliefs. I think upper management forgot that a long time ago.”</p><p>“Yeah.” Then, “I’m sorry, Cas. For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re a self righteous dick. Not like them, anyway. You’re nothing like them.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Water and Blood</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Dean woke, Cas was gone. He panicked for a moment, scrambling out of bed and throwing on the first pair of pants he could find - which turned out to belong to Cas. He ran into the kitchen, then stopped when Cas wasn't there either. Yeah, Cas wasn’t there. So? Why the hell did he care so much? They slept together once - twice if you count that time in the alley - but that’s it. Cas was holding him prisoner to take to <em> Angel </em> headquarters, for fuck’s sake. They slept together once but that was a one time deal and Cas was gone and Dean had a chance to escape that he absolutely should take.</p><p>He didn’t.</p><p>Dean heard the porch creak and found Cas standing there, watching the sunrise. Dean almost wanted to laugh. Castiel? The hardass that dragged him miles without more than a few words a day on average? An <em> Angel? </em> Watching a sunrise? But there he was. And there Dean was, coming up beside him to enjoy the view as well.</p><p>“We should get going early today. It looks like there’s gonna be a storm passing through here and I’d rather not get caught up in it,” Cas said by way of greeting. </p><p>“Well, good morning to you, too Cas.”</p><p>“You keep calling me Cas.”</p><p>“S’a nickname. I’ll stop, if you want-” Shit.</p><p>“No it… it’s nice,” Cas muttered, turning to face Dean. “Beautiful view this morning, isn’t it?”</p><p>Dean almost kissed him. Almost. But the part of him that desperately wanted to was crushed by the part that knew he didn’t ever get what he wanted, and he didn’t deserve it either. What he wanted wasn't his to take. No matter how desperately he wished it was. Clearing his throat, Dean made a shitty, blatant attempt at changing the subject. “Last night, uh, that was a… um, that was a one- time thing. It didn’t… <em> I </em> didn’t…”</p><p>“I understand,” Cas replied solemnly, heading inside, likely to pack up their things. He turned back, looking for all the world like a kicked puppy. “Did- Do you regret it?” he whispered.</p><p>Even quieter, Dean replied, “No.” And that was that.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Dean’s ass was sore as fuck from riding nonstop for the past couple hours and, well, the previous night. Of course, he could go on for the rest of the day, but what could he say, he spent one night in a semi nice place so of course he’s gonna act like a little baby. One never forgets the taste of luxury.</p><p>He still had some semblance of pride, though, so he waited to stop until Cas offered to take a break. In hindsight, maybe waiting to stretch was a mistake, he thought as he nearly crumpled to the ground, trying to dismount Baby. “Little help here, Cas?” he called, knowing full well it wouldn’t do him any good.</p><p>Cas did come over, and he reached out as if he were about to help Dean, maybe support him while he got his sea legs back, but instead, Cas just shoved him over into the dirt. “Fucking asshole!” Cas simply smirked and Dean couldn’t help but want to punch his stupid face. Cas had every right to be a dick to him, after Dean’s whole “one time deal” thing, but that didn’t mean Dean wasn’t pissed. “I’m serious, Cas; I’m gonna get my revenge one of these days and then you’ll regret messing with me. You will!”</p><p>“Dean, you couldn’t do shit to me if you tried,” Cas laughed, sounding so fucking sure of hiself that Dean just <em> had </em> to prove him wrong. He got up - barely - and ran at Cas, shoving him in the direction of the stream. By the time Cas realized where they were going, it was too late. Dean gave him one final push and Cas went toppling backwards into the water. “Hey! Fuckin’ rude,” Cas yelled, spitting water at Dean.</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, alright,” Dean snorted, holding out a hand to help Cas out of the stream. “See, I’m a <em> good </em> person because I actually help people when they-” He was cut off by Cas pulling his hand, sending him tumbling into the stream, too. “You dick! You goddamn fuckin’ cocksucking-”</p><p>“-I thought you liked it when I suck your cock-”</p><p>“-bitch ass, bull fucker-”</p><p>“-you didn’t tell me you were a bull last night-”</p><p>“-dirty dick shaped driftwood-”</p><p>“-Now you’re just making shit up-”</p><p>“-horse --” Dean was cut off by Cas shoving his head underwater and holding it for a couple seconds. He shoved Cas off, spitting water and pouting, “Shit, man, what if I’d drowned?”</p><p>“Well, then I wouldn’t let you,” Cas replied simply. And that was that. </p><p>They messed around in the stream for a little while longer, savoring the feel of cool water on their skin in the middle of one of the hottest days of the trip. That is, until Dean pointed out the obvious. </p><p>Bumping Cas’ shoulder with his own, Dean turned to Cas to ask, “Hey Cas? What’re we supposed to do with our wet clothes?”</p><p>“I don’t know. I thought maybe you’d have an idea since <em> you’re the one who pushed me into the stream,” </em> Cas snapped.</p><p>“Oh shut up; it’s nice here and you know it,” Dean grinned obnoxiously. He grinned even more when an idea came to mind. Cas didn’t like a tease? Well fuck him. Dean stripped until he was left in just his underwear, then strutted off to go hang his clothes somewhere to dry, putting perhaps a little more sway in his step than strictly necessary.</p><p>By the time Dean finished hanging up his clothes, Cas had already followed suit except… except the fucker thought it would be a great idea to try and one up Dean. So there was Cas, naked as the day he was born, hanging up his clothes on a nigher branch of a tree, his muscles flexing as he strained to reach and fuck maybe this <em> was </em> a bad idea.</p><p>What with the impending chill brought forth by the evening, the incredibly distracting display of nudity actually didn’t last all that long. Soon enough, Dean found himself dressing quickly beside Cas. They worked swiftly to get a fire going, and huddled close beside it as soon as they were done. Dean stretched out his legs and Cas, in his semi conscious state, laid his head on Dean’s shoulder. Dean let him. They sat like that for a while before dozing off together, waking in the morning wrapped in one another’s arms.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Cas stepped over Dean’s legs, which were stretched out by the fire pit they’d set up earlier. They’d finished eating dinner hours ago, having stopped early since Cas estimated they only had a day or two more to go anyways. Dean was grateful for the extra time. Time to rest, of course, but also more time before arriving at Angel headquarters. Before he would have to be alone again, without Cas. He’d never admit that, since he’d learned it was perhaps the most dangerous thing to admit to anyone, including himself, but knowing it was enough.</p><p>Kicking Dean’s feet as he did so, Cas sat on his bedroll a couple feet away. “Asshole,” Dean mumbled, and he could have sworn he saw the corner of Cas’ mouth twitch up into a smile. Or it could have just been the firelight. Neither of them spoke, deliberately watching the fire while secretly watching each other. Dean wanted to ask <em> “What next?” </em> but he couldn’t seem to bring himself to have the conversation that would inevitably come with the answer.</p><p>“So, what happens after you bring me in, exactly? More of the same?” Dean finally asked.</p><p>Cas sighed, shifting around a bit to lean back on his hands. The firelight danced across his jaw. “I don’t know. I think so. I just… I don’t miss it. Doing what we - Angels - do.”</p><p>“Oh. I know the feeling.” He truly did.</p><p>“Did you ever want to get out? Do something else? You know, when…” Cas asked him in a hushed whisper, as if he’d been told his whole life that such thoughts were forbidden. Knowing what he did about the Angles, Dean figured he probably had.</p><p>“I did, sometimes. But I had to stay, y’know? Promised Sammy I’d pay for college and, well, being a Hellspawn earned me money. Didn’t have anywhere else to go, anyway. So I just...” Cas nodded in understanding. After a long pause and a lot of overthinking, Dean asked, “Do you? Y’know, ever want to leave?”</p><p>“I had a brother,” Cas began, not quite answering the question, but Dean let him continue, grateful to hear about Cas, for once. Because it was good to get to know his enemy. Except Cas was his friend. He didn’t know when he started thinking of him as one, but he did, somewhere along the line. And that was that. “His name was Gabriel,” Cas continued, snapping Dean out of his head. “He half raised me since my mom died in childbirth and my dad, well, he up and left when I was young. Gabriel was old enough to take care of us both and he did, for a little while. Then a couple years later our extremely Catholic aunt and uncle took us in, raised us in the church. Think my dad used to take us to church, too. Either way, they raised us to believe in God and have faith and pray. They were Angels, at the time, so Gabe and I were raised Angels, too. He didn’t like it one bit. Said God was a load of crap.”</p><p>“Did you agree with him?”</p><p>“Not… Not at first. Then our relatives, the ones who raised us, Michael and Naomi, made us get more… involved with the Angels. We started going on quick trips with them. I don’t remember what they used to call them in front of us kids. Eventually, I learned to call them ‘raids’. It might have been then that I started to agree with him - Gabriel. But I stayed, because I wanted to stay, because Gabriel was there and I couldn’t fathom going anywhere without him. Then Naomi died, and Gabe and I had more operations to run. On one raid, we went out with a few of our cousins to this house in the middle of nowhere. There were two guys living there. Everyone in town said they were <em> together. </em> I didn’t know all that at the time. Zachariah just told me they were sinners, and needed to be put down. When I saw what they did to them, I thought, somehow, they knew. I only told Gabriel about- about <em> me </em> but I thought… But then Gabriel said that he wouldn’t help them. That what the Angels were doing was wrong. It wasn’t the first time he’d spoken out against them but it was the first time he refused a direct order. They killed him, too. That’s when I finally agreed with him.” Cas folded his hands in his lap and ducked his head. If Dean didn’t know any better, he’d think Cas was praying.</p><p>Dean reached out his hand and placed it on Cas’ shoulder, scooting closer until they were pressed side to side. “Cas, I- I’m so sorry.” Cas shrugged, and it moved Dean’s whole body. Funny, the power one man had over him. </p><p>“It is what it is, right? The Angels are fucked up and there’s nothing I can do about it. Even if there was, I still owe them,” he chuckled darkly, turning his hands palm up.</p><p>“After all that, you don’t owe them shit. You’d be doing yourself a favor if you just leave. Find a place of your own.” <em> “With me.” </em> </p><p>“You don’t understand, Dean. They’re my family. They’re all I have in this world.”</p><p>“No, Cas, they’re your <em> blood. </em> It’s different. You don’t owe them jack. And that’s what’s great about leaving, I guess. You get to be your own family. Trust me, Cas, what they’ve got going isn’t something you want to be tangled up in.”</p><p>“You’re one to talk, Winchester,” Cas snapped.</p><p>Dean immediately closed off as he did when he got hurt, lashing out blindly like a wounded animal. “You don’t know the first thing about me, Castiel. Don’t act like what I did with the Hellspawn was like what you’ve got going here. You can leave the Angels. I didn’t have that luxury. So when I tell you to take this goddamn opportunity, fucking listen to me, because I sure as shit know what I’m talking about.”</p><p>“You keep going on about how you couldn’t leave the Hellspawn, yet you wouldn’t even be here if you didn’t. So what the hell is up with that?” Cas demanded.</p><p>“Doesn’t matter.”</p><p>“Of course it fucking matters!” Dean ignored him, laying down with his back turned to Cas. “Fine, then. Be a fucking child.” There was the rustling of cloth on cloth and Dean assumed Cas also laid down beside him. They remained still for minutes, hell, hours, neither able to sleep with the weight of their words hanging in the air. </p><p>Enough was enough. “Cas? I know you’re awake.”</p><p>“And?” he hissed.</p><p>“<em> And, </em> if you decide to, y’know, leave…”</p><p>“Spit it out, Winchester.”</p><p>“What I’m trying to say is I wouldn’t be opposed to having a partner.” Cas fell dead silent. Realizing the implications of what he said, Dean added, “Like, to hunt down the rest of the Hellspawn. Y’know. If you want to.” Gathering his courage, he rolled over to face Cas.</p><p>Cas stared at him as if he’d just found the thing he’d been missing for years. The gaze left Dean warm inside, a feeling he absolutely did <em> not </em> want to unpack then, or ever. Then Cas smiled sadly and it felt as if the whole world stood still. “I’ll think about it.”</p><p>“So,” Dean began, knowing he was pushing his luck but not caring, “that mean you’re leaving?”</p><p>“Maybe. If you were trying to get me to agree just so I let you go, I’ll never forgive you.” And that was that.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>As they settled down for the night in a rocky outcropping on the mountain they’d spent the better part of a day crossing, Dean could nearly feel the somber mood in the air. Cas’ expression remained grim as they ate and laid down to sleep, the wind whistling as it blew across the rocks beyond them. </p><p>Dean tried his best to pull him out of whatever mental pit he’d fallen into, joking and acting foolish as they ate. Hell, he even used his self- proclaimed best line on Cas - “So… last night on earth, or something like that. How do you wanna spend it?” - an implied offer that Cas took up, leaning over to kiss Dean softly. He eased up a little, then. Sorrow remained ever present in his eyes, but Dean was able to push it out of his mind for just a little while. Because the look in Cas’ eyes every time they caught Dean’s… holy couldn’t even begin to describe it. Dean knew, though he feared to admit it, that he felt it, too. As if he’d found religion in the man atop him. </p><p>As they laid side by side, blissed out and panting, Dean brushed a stray strand of hair from Cas’ forehead. It was the first time he’d truly seen Cas smile. It made Dean smile in return. They remained there, holding one another, until Dean began to drift off.</p><p>He woke, in the middle of the night. The fire was only embers. He felt Cas’ eyes and pretended to be asleep a little longer. He didn’t know why, but he was scared of facing what lay ahead. Dean peeked open an eye, keeping his face carefully blank. Cas stared at him, looking for all the world as if he’d lost everything. A tear slipped down his cheek. Dean willed himself not to let his emotions echo the sentiment.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. The Final Dawn</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They arrived at Angel Headquarters the next morning, a few hours before noon if Dean guessed right. Occasionally, Cas shot him a small, sad smile. The air between them hung heavy with fear of what lay ahead, in that pristine townhouse set in the middle of an open plain. As they were greeted by two Angels at the stables, Dean realized what, exactly he was so terrified of. It wasn’t death or capture; he’d faced his fair share of both and come out on time every time. He knew he could wiggle his way out of even the tightest spaces. No, what he feared wasn’t death, it was being alone again. The short week and a half he’d spent on the road with Cas reminded him what it was like to have someone to ride with again, someone he could talk to and laugh with. If he didn’t make it out of that building, he might never see Cas again.</p><p>The stables led directly to the foyer of the house, and Dean marveled at its grandeur. It was nothing <em> fancy, </em> per se, but the wood paneling was in fairly good shape and there wasn’t any blood on the walls. Granted, Dean’s only standard for a home base was Hell, so his judgement was fairly skewed.</p><p>At his side, Cas stool incredibly still as he spoke with another Angel - Uriel, he believed he’d heard him called - spine ramrod straight, shoulders back, voice cool and empty. He looked every part of what Dean believed Angels to be. Uriel gestured to a staircase at the far end of the room, and Castiel gripped Dean’s arm tight, dragging him through the crowd that had gathered, likely due to the news of his arrival. Castiel’s face remained impassive as he pulled Dean along and up the stairs, and Dean came to a horrifying revelation. That was it. The end of the line. He’d be alone for the rest of his short, miserable life and Castiel would return to the Angels. His footsteps echoed in the otherwise silent hallway, and as Castiel knocked on a door thrice, Dean realized, <em> “He doesn’t want me.” </em> Castiel opened the door and shoved Dean inside, walking away without so much as a second glance. And that was that.</p><p>Defeated, Dean lingered in the doorway, debating how long it would take to run. “Not gonna kill me, are you?”</p><p>“No, you’re not in any trouble, Dean. Sit.” The stout guy with a large bald spot on top of his head gestured to the seat across the desk from him. Dean did sit, after debating for a minute as to whether or not he should play this guy’s games. The results were still inconclusive. </p><p>“Zachariah,” the guy - Zachariah - said, holding out his hand for Dean to shake. When Dean didn’t, he simply withdrew his hand and sighed. “Do you know why we called you in here, Dean?”</p><p>“I’d hardly say you called me here. More like kidnapped.”</p><p>“Semantics. Either way, you’re a <em> legend! </em> Everyone wants to know if the stories are true. So, are they? Did you really massacre the entirety of the Hellspawn?”</p><p>“Yes,” he gritted out, “and if you ask me any more personal questions, I swear to God, you’re next.”</p><p>“Ooh, we’re threatening violence in a house of God, I see! You really do live up to your reputation, I must say, Mr. Winchester.” Zachariah looked for all the world as if he truly was getting a kick out of the conversation.</p><p>“I’d hardly call this a house of God, Zachariah, considering how many people are slaughtered by its members in a day.”</p><p>“Oh, you’re one to talk, Deano, what with all those years of being a Hellspawn under your belt.” He shot Dean the most fake smile Dean had ever seen, and Dean shot him one right back. “Nonetheless, that’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”</p><p>“I wouldn’t know. You seem to love hearing yourself talk, yet you haven’t said anything useful,” Dean snapped, impatient. If he were being completely honest, he just wanted to get everything over with, no matter where it got him. Patience was hardly one of his virtues. At least, when it comes to absolute dicks.</p><p>“Dean, Dean, Dean, there’s no need to be so rude. I’m simply making small talk.” Dean hummed sarcastically in disagreement. “You’re <em> here </em>,” Zachariah cut in, “because you could be useful. We need more raw talent like you. Like I said, what you did to the demons was impressive, and Michael thought it would be a good idea to convert you, now that you left them.”</p><p>“And I would join you, why?” Dean hissed. “You’re no better than the fucking demons.”</p><p>“I don’t think you have much of a choice, Mr. Winchester. When Michael wants something, he gets it. And he’s decided he wants to make a nice, loyal soldier out of you, whether he has to do it the easy way,” Zachariah said, leaning forward and folding his hands on his desk. “Or the hard way. So what’ll it be?”</p><p>“I thought you already had <em> plenty </em> of loyal soldiers, if Castiel is anything to go by,” Dean replied coolly, trying to hide how much it stung to know that was true.</p><p>“Castiel? Loyal? Please,” Zachariah laughed. “We’ve had to… reprogram him more times than I can count. You’re right about one thing, though: Castiel is perhaps the most loyal soldier in the garrison.”</p><p>“What the hell does that mean?”</p><p>“We can all tell where Castiel’s loyalties are, and it’s not with us. Hasn’t been for a long time. But now they do seem to lie <em> somewhere </em> and that somewhere seems to be with you.” Zachariah sneered.</p><p>“But I’m just-”</p><p>“If you start with any of that self loathing bullshit that comes with every sad sap like you, I swear, Dean Winchester, I will kill you before Michael even gets to meet you. And we wouldn’t want that, now would we?”</p><p>“Guess not,” he answered dryly.</p><p>As if on cue, Castiel opened the door, abruptly cutting off their conversation. “I’ve been sent to collect Dean Winchester. Michael wants to see him immediately,” he demanded, voice colder than it had been speaking to the other Angels. Dean’s stomach twisted at the thought of finally having to meet the Big Boss. Half of him believed he wouldn’t live to see anything else afterwards.</p><p>“You’re no fun, Castiel. But very well, you can have him,” Zachariah relented, tossing Dean a knowing smirk, and Castiel gave him a curt nod before grabbing Dean’s arm and manhandling him out of the room. As soon as the door was shut, Castiel looked around, and Dean figured he was trying to find another Angel to dump Dean on then run off. However, the corridor and, from the sound of it, the surrounding corridors sat empty.</p><p>“So, you give up on me? Figured you’d be too much of a coward to do anything,” Dean sneered. He didn’t mean it, of course, but Castiel seeming to choose the Angels after everything that had happened pissed him off. Castiel deserved better than all of that. <em> And you’re so much better because… Why? </em> All Dean wanted was to get him out, to get him to see that he <em> could </em> get out. Too late now, he supposed.</p><p>They turned down another hallway and, sure enough, it, too was barren. Castiel visibly relaxed, his grip on Dean’s arm loosening and his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. He quickened their pace, leaning over to whisper, “One of my greatest fears walking into this building is that they would make me stay and you would be taken from me without so much as a chance to say goodbye, let alone explain myself.”</p><p>Dean froze at the weight his words carried, and Cas had to literally drag him a few feet before he realized time was of the essence. “So what are we doing now?”</p><p>“It’s true. Michael did want to see you, and he wanted to see you right then. I just so happened to leave out the part where <em> he </em> was coming to see <em> you </em>.” Cas led them down a different flight of stairs than the one they climbed when they first arrived.</p><p>“So what you’re saying is we should probably be running,” Dean almost laughed in relief.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Awesome.” He did laugh that time. It felt freeing.</p><p>“The stables are through that door, but to get there, there’s a great, open field we have to pass through,” Cas warned him.</p><p>“So run before they can catch us?”</p><p>“Yes. On my signal.” Dean nodded and they hurried down the corridor, Dean drawing his pistol that he kept hidden in his boot. They reached the door, Dean shoved it open, Cas yelled, “Now!” And they were off.</p><p>About halfway there, a thought occurred to him. “So you’re really coming?”</p><p>“Yeah. I told a couple of my cousins and let’s just say it didn’t go over so well.” Gunshots rang out from behind them, granting meaning to Cas’ words. They sprinted for the stables, Dean swinging open the stall door and mounting Baby as swiftly as he had a million times before, snagging her reins from where they hung on the wall as she galloped out of the stable. Fortunately, Cas was close behind. Trying and miraculously succeeding to put her reins on as he rode, Dean urged Baby faster and faster across the open expanse, Cas and his horse on their heels. He turned and fired off a couple shots, hitting maybe a couple Angels but - unfortunately, in his opinion - not doing much damage. As the sun began to sink in the sky, they rode and rode, even long after gunfire could no longer be heard and the headquarters were well out of sight.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Eventually, they stopped and made camp, just as the sun was beginning to set. Dean laughed aloud at the idea that he was watching a sunset, and when Cas asked him what in the hell was so funny, he simply responded, “Dunno. Didn’t think I’d see any more after you took me to Angel home base.” And that was that.</p><p>The sound of hooves on dry grass carried across the plains, and Dean rose from his spot by the fire, the night too dark to make anything out other than a figure atop a horse. The owner of the figure soon became clear when a familiar voice called out, “Dean! Castiel! Long time no see!”</p><p>Zachariah reached their little camp, and the instant he dismounted he found himself with a bullet in each knee. He crumpled to the ground and Dean stalked over to him, punching his face by way of greeting. “Are there any others?”</p><p>“Yeah, you’ve got all the Angels on your back now, Deano,” he smirked.</p><p>“He’s lying,” Cas assured him, “No one’s coming.”</p><p>“How the hell do you know that?”</p><p>“Because I rode with them for years, Dean. They had to send me to find you because unfortunately for them, I’m the best at it. They know they won’t be able to go after you, at least not safely. They don’t care enough to come after me. Zachariah just thinks that I’m a stain upon the Angels’ honor for running off with a former Hellspawn. So, he followed us to ‘exact justice’ or whatever he believes fit,” Cas sneered, coming up to stand a few yards behind Dean.</p><p>“Oh, well, in that case,” Dean grinned, landing a solid kick to Zachariah’s stomach. “What should we do with him now that he’s here? You wanna get some payback for everything you had to do as an Angel?”</p><p>Cas sauntered up to Dean, sliding his arms around his waist. They didn’t do that. That wasn’t something Dean though Cas wanted with him, that simple intimacy. Then he remembered Zachariah’s stance on ‘people like them’, and realized it didn’t mean shit. It was just an act Cas was putting on to get at Zachariah. Nothing more. It sting more than he cared to admit. Even so, Dean wasn’t one to pass up an opportunity. He slid his already bloody hands to rest over Cas’ on his stomach. Cas rested his chin on Dean’s shoulder to stage whisper in his ear, “I’m alright. He’s all yours.” Cas nibbled at his earlobe. Dean could see Zachariah squirm uncomfortably.</p><p>“Glad to hear it, <em> babe,” </em> he replied, pressing a quick kiss to Cas’ cheek and slipping out of his arms to face Zachariah once again. He heard Cas back away to give him space. He began to lay into Zachariah, and shit, did he miss it. It felt the same then as it did to leave the Hellspawn dead on the floor. It felt the same as every time he got into a fight with some guy at a bar for getting handsy with a girl who told him to back off, for stealing from someone with nothing to steal in the first place, for just generally being a dick. He’d forgotten how it felt to really lay into someone, and someone who deserved it, at that. Dean was one to talk, of course, but Zachariah had done some bad things in his life. Bad things to someone Dean had grown to <em> care </em> about, and Dean couldn’t let it slide. “Boy, I’ve missed this.” </p><p>And he did. He swore off bar fights and big robberies after his last time in Hell, too scared to let out the part of him that he kept in a cage for the safety of him and everyone around him. Because if he didn’t, well... There was a reason he climbed up the Hellspawn ranks so quickly. So after he left the demons, and tried his best to leave that legacy behind, he put that part of him back in its suffocating cage. It screamed and howled but he told himself it was for the better. Then he met Cas and all his self control snapped, and the cage along with it. Dean wanted to protect Cas, to make sure nothing bad ever happened to him again, and that was that. Dean wanted to keep Cas safe, and Zachariah hurt Cas, therefore Dean would hurt Zachariah until Zachariah could never hurt Cas again. </p><p>Cas remained silent where he stood, watching. A little too silent, perhaps. Dean delivered one final debilitating blow to ensure Zachariah wouldn’t be able to get away for a few minutes, if ever. Crossing the distance between them, Dean held out his hands to hold Cas’ but decided against it. His hands were covered in blood that wasn’t his own. “Are you okay, Cas?” Dean asked, trying not to sound too worried but also trying to compel Cas to answer him honestly.</p><p>“I’m fine, Dean.” His words were clipped and distant.</p><p>“No, you’re not,” Dean insisted, reaching out to cup Cas’ face and pulling away when he saw the gory mess his hand had become. “It’s me, isn’t it?”</p><p>Cas didn’t answer.</p><p>He’d forgotten. He’d forgotten, in the heat of the moment, that Cas didn’t know this about him. He knew that he used to be a Hellspawn, but Dean figured he must have never really put much thought into what that entailed. Into the perpetual gore that used to live on Dean’s hands and the blood that caked under his fingernails. Cas must have never realized the key difference between him and Dean used to revel in the bloodshed. He’d forgotten.  “Shit, Cas, I-”</p><p>“Dean, just… just stop. Please. I’m sorry,” Cas said, apparently louder than he’d intended as Zachariah caught wind that something was wrong.</p><p>“Trouble in paradise, you fags?” Zachariah sneered. Both Dean and Cas tried not to flinch.</p><p>“Why did you follow us, Zachariah?” Cas sounded so, so tired.</p><p>“You know exactly why, Castiel. <em> I </em> want to know why an Angel is shacking up with a demon.”</p><p>“Words hurt, you know,” Dean hissed, swinging at Zachariah’s nose. He’d already forgotten Cas’ request in his fury. “He’s not one of you winged dicks anymore.”</p><p>“We’re hunting down the Hellspawn,” Cas said, voice tight and eyes looking anywhere but Dean.</p><p>“And why would you be leaving the Angels to go hunt <em> Hellspawn, </em> of all things, with one of their former members? Unless, of course, you think the Hellspawn are still around,” Zachariah taunted, spitting blood.</p><p>Dean punched him again, and Cas’ voice rang out from his spot a few yards away, “They’re not still around. They disbanded, and Dean and I are going to go hunt down all the former members.”</p><p>“They disbanded? Oh so <em> that’s </em> what he told you. Now I understand why you haven’t had the sense to ditch that monster. Not a lie, though, I suppose. I mean, it’s very hard to run an organization when all your members were slaughtered by none other than Dean Winchester himself.” A white hot rage blinded him, and Dean’s only thought as he shoved the blade into Zachariah’s throat was, <em> “Those were some pretty shitty last words.” </em> </p><p>Without Zachariah’s annoying voice to fill the space, the woods sat silent. It was almost as if the world was holding its breath. The dam came tumbling down when Cas asked, voice carefully even, “Is that true?” Dean’s silence was answer enough. “Let’s get going. Leave the body; no one will come looking for him or us if they haven’t by now.” Without another word, Cas mounted his horse and rode off, not bothering to wait for Dean and Baby to catch up. Dean couldn’t help but think of the early days of their relationship, when they hardly spoke a word a day and he didn’t even know Cas’ name.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. You Don't Trust Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The very next morning, over breakfast, Castiel finally snapped. “Why the hell didn't you tell me? That’s the type of thing you warn someone about before they get to know you! Before they agree to spend what could be <em> the rest of their life </em> with you!”</p><p>“That! <em> That </em> is exactly why I didn’t tell you. Because I knew you’d react like this and I didn’t want that, okay? I didn’t want you to get that same look most people do when they talk about the guy who is <em> single handedly responsible for the extinction of the Hellspawn! </em> I didn’t want you to look at <em> me </em> like that!” Dean yelled, backing away and debating grabbing his crap and leaving before shit got any fucking worse.</p><p>“Look at you like what?” Castiel snapped right back, still pointedly keeping his distance.</p><p>“Like that! With fear and disgust and whatever the fuck! Like I’m not a person; like I’m just a gruesome legend that people will one day tell stories about!”</p><p>“You wanna know how I see you now? I see you the same way I always did: violent, selfish, and dangerous. Because you fucking are! Look at you. Look at yourself and think about it from an outsider’s perspective. How the everloving <em> fuck </em> does <em> one man </em> manage to take down one of the most powerful and ruthless gangs in the West? How does one man trump an entire <em> order </em> of the worst of the worst?” Castiel began to look at him with something akin to awe. Dean couldn’t tell if he liked it any more or less than the alternative. “And even if the how was simple, there’s the matter of why. <em> Why </em> would you put your life on the line like that, Dean Winchester?”</p><p>The use of his full name broke something in him. He didn’t think it could ever be fixed. “They fucking killed my mother, that’s why! They’re the reason I even ended up in this mess. They killed her and my dad got obsessed with hunting the the people responsible down, then Sammy left us, left <em> me </em> , then dad got himself killed and I was all alone at nineteen with nothing to my name but three cents and this fucking necklace that used to be my mom’s good luck charm. I had to steal in order to eat. I had to fucking <em> sell myself </em> to survive. So tell me again why I shouldn’t have done that! I had every fucking right and you <em> know </em> it. It was their whole fucking plan. It was their <em> plan </em> to ruin me until I had no choice but to join them and taint my soul with innocent fucking blood. So what the <em> fuck </em> is wrong with spilling the blood owed to me? Explain that to me. I know for fucking certain you can’t.”</p><p>Castiel fell silent. Of course he did. Even the bravest of men wouldn’t dare speak in the wake of those words. “It’s not so much a matter of morality, I suppose,” he said at last, quietly, “because in your position, I believe I would have done the same thing. Perhaps. Perhaps I would be too scared. But, Dean, I’m not judging you for what you did, not like other people do.”</p><p>Dean huffed a bitter laugh. “Right. Because you think I’m <em> so </em> special.”</p><p>“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. But either way, it’s not that. Dean, I’m fucking pissed that you didn’t trust me enough to tell me, not about the fact that you did it in the first place.”</p><p>“Cas, I do trust you,” Dean tried to reassure him, reaching his hand out to cup Cas’ cheek just as he did the night before. All he wanted was for Cas to know that it wasn’t his fault, not then, not ever. Cas flinched away. “I’d trust you with the whole world, if I had it. I swear, Cas, I would. But I was selfish and I didn’t want to lose you, so I did what I thought I had to. I didn’t want to lose you, Cas.”</p><p>“You didn’t want to lose me,” Cas huffed, as if he didn’t <em> want </em> to believe it. “You didn’t want to lose me, but how about now? If I left right now and you never saw me again, would you care?”</p><p>“Of fucking course I’d care. You have <em> no right </em> to say I wouldn’t. None. How the hell could you possibly believe I wouldn’t? I lo-” Dean froze. The world seemed to stop alongside him. No. No, he couldn’t… He <em> didn’t </em> just… But after a moment’s thought, he realized it was true. He did feel that way about Cas. That terrified him more than anything. “It doesn’t matter either way,” he said coolly. “I’m still going to hunt down the remaining Hellspawn. If you want to come, then fine. If you don’t get the hell out. I can’t afford the dead weight.” </p><p>Cas gathered his things and for one heart wrenching moment, Dean thought he was actually leaving. But he simply moved it to the opposite side of the small camp that they had to abandon soon anyway. “You can push me away all you want, but I’m not going anywhere, Dean Winchester.” And that was that.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Cas kept his promise. No matter how much shit Dean gave him over the next few days, he stayed. He didn’t understand how Cas could do it. How Cas put up with him, after, well, everything. Dean knew himself: when he feared fucking things up with someone, he pushed them away before he could do any real damage. So either he was slacking, or Cas was even dumber than Dean thought. Either way, he knew it wouldn’t end well for either of them.</p><p>As night fell on the fourth day of their fruitless journey, they ended up at the cabin they shacked up in on the way to Angel home base. They both froze atop their horses. Staring at the ramshackle building, Dean almost wanted to cry. Almost. Everything was so different then than it was the first time. They left the cabin only about a week ago, but Dean knew that for all the cabin looked the same, he and Cas were wildly different at heart. Just as night drained all the light from the sky, the revelation drained the life out of Dean. The weight of it all fell upon his shoulders all at once, and Dean was so, so fucking tired. </p><p>He wanted to simply make sure Baby made it comfortably to the makeshift stables then go to sleep, but Cas guided his horse into a trot, passing him and bringing her to a stall. He tied her up and Dean watched from a distance. The same distance they’d maintained since the night he killed Zachariah. The night Cas was faced with the cold reality of who he was. Cas hadn’t looked him in the eye since that night, let alone come within a few feet of him. It <em> hurt, </em> but he knew he deserved it. Cas made that much crystal clear. Dean didn't deserve Cas because Cas was <em> good. </em> Cas was good, and he didn’t belong with the creatures of the darkness like the one Dean had become. That much was obvious if his reaction to what happened with Zachariah was anything to go by. </p><p>Dean hated the part of him that he let out that night. He hated the monster inside him. But sometimes his control would slip and the monster would take over his mind and tell him that’s who he was. That he was a killer. That he enjoyed bathing in the blood of others. It whispered those sweet little horrors until Dean didn’t know how much of it was actually him. When he rode with the Hellspawn, the monster took over. He let it, because it was the only way for him to survive. But after years of pretending he was that <em> thing, </em> he started to become it, just a little. He thought so, anyway. Although, he had a fairly difficult time sorting out what was real and what wasn’t. For all he knew, it could be the other way around and that sure as hell wasn’t a healthy way to think but what if it was <em> true? </em> But if there was one thing he and the monster consistently agreed upon, it was that it was nice to take from others what was taken from him. That’s why Hell called to him more than he would ever care to admit. It’s why massacring the demons felt righteous; it was <em> good </em> to take from others - for the first time in his life, to be selfish - especially when it was those who took from him on his rack. It was fucking bliss.</p><p>But Cas hated the death and the torture and the monsters like the one within Dean. Cas didn’t seem to struggle with right and wrong. Not the way Dean did. He was repulsed by those who did others wrong. He may have been forced to do horrible things, but he didn’t revel in them. Dean couldn’t blame him. Growing up, violence had always been the first and only means to an end, something to savor if you were getting your revenge and to shrug off otherwise. It didn’t matter. But Cas had seen so much, so young. Being around folks as bad as the Angels as a child sounded fucked up, but then again, what in the world didn’t? Still, the raids and the blood Cas was exposed to on such a large scale, plus everything with his brother, probably showed Cas real fucking quick that there was only one way to describe violence, and it was: wrong. Dean wished he’d learned that lesson. But Dean had been required to serve as his daddy's blunt little instrument from the moment he was deemed old enough. He was thirteen.. He was a killer. He was trained to be bad <em> to </em> people for so much of his life, he became bad <em> for </em> people. Cas, Sam, Cassie, his dad, every other goddamn person he’d ever befriended. None of it ended up well. Dean was poison, and he knew it. If people got close to him, they ended up hurt or dead. And that was that. </p><p>He knew that, for Cas’ sake, he really should get as far away from the guy as possible, but he couldn’t seem to fathom doing anything of the sort. Not as if he’d ever admit it, but he cared too much about Cas. He cared too much to truly let him leave his side. Because at the end of the day, the only way Dean Winchester ever learned how to love was the way he’d been taught was selfish. But Cas said he’d stay, and as terrified as he was of what it meant, Dean truly didn’t want to give that loyalty up.</p><p>By the time Dean returned to the world around him, Cas had long since gone to bed. Taking advantage of the now- empty stables, Dean left Baby in a stall, giving her a pat on the head before he left. He stopped at the cabin’s doorway. Being trapped in his head did nothing for the bone- crushing exhaustion that had been slowly overtaking him, but he didn’t want to face Cas in the wake of his thoughts.</p><p>Dean ended up going back outside and leaning against the porch railing, as he and Cas had that morning all those days ago. He remembered feeling safe in a way he hadn’t since his mother was still alive. The house he lived in used to have a porch with a nice view, like the broken one he stood on. He thought so, anyway. He thought he remembered sitting on a railing, his fathers kind hands holding him steady while a woman warned them to be careful, or else they wouldn’t be allowed to have any of the supper that would be done soon. He thought he remembered his father’s kind laugh as he told her not to worry. That everything would be just fine.</p><p>He wondered what it would be like to have a family like that of his own. He remembered thinking about what it would be like to have that family with Cas. It seemed entirely possible then, as they stood there watching dawn creep over the land. He told himself that with a little more time, they could get there. With a little more time, Cas would grow on him and he would grow on Cas. Well, a little more time after, all they got was their hearts broken by one another. He should have known better. How could he think that being with Cas would be any different than with anyone else? That it would end any better? Not like they were together in the first place, but they almost were. <em> Almost. </em> </p><p>Dean lived his life in <em> almosts </em> and somehow the word never seemed any less heartbreaking. The idea of <em> almost </em> anything, of getting so close to any one thing and yet failing despite everything made him want to cry. So he did. He cried for the meaning of the word. He cried for the <em> almosts </em> he never fully reached. He cried for the almost-life he’d lived. Eventually, he came inside and joined Cas on the bed with tear tracks still drying on his face. They laid as far apart as they could get, never touching, never talking.</p><p>And that was that.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. I Thought I Promised Not To Leave You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They left the cabin early the next day. Neither of them got much sleep, too trapped in their own minds to truly rest. Dean knew he didn’t have any real reason to be pissed at Cas. He <em>  knew </em> that, but it didn’t stop him from lashing out at any opportunity regardless. Besides, Cas did the same thing to him. <em> He’s got a real reason, </em> Dean’s subconscious told him. He told it to go fuck itself. </p><p>In what had been the shortest, most tense conversion Dean had in his entire life, they’d agreed to continue down the road to the cabin, opposite the way they came in the first time. Cas figured if there was a road, there must be somewhere for it to lead, and Dean hated to admit it but he was probably right.</p><p>The sun beat down on Dean’s neck and he had a feeling he’d be sunburnt by midday if they didn’t make it to some shade soon. He debated telling Cas to stop after about an hour, but sure enough, a town soon came into view and Dean sighed in relief. Towns meant places to go and people who weren’t (rightfully) pissed at him to talk to and hotels with real beds to sleep in and places to properly bathe. Oh, how Dean missed real civilization.</p><p>As they approached, Dean remembered that as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t just ride off and look for information. He and Cas were, in theory, a team, after all.</p><p>“When we get into town, you can do whatever the hell you want, but I’m gonna stop by the saloon,” he informed Cas.  </p><p>Cas sent him a look that would have just about anyone else - including him, if he were any less annoyed or any more intelligent - quaking in their boots. “Of course <em> you’re </em> going to stop by a saloon,” he sniffed.</p><p>“Oh yeah? What’s that supposed to mean?” Cas looked him up and down as if he knew <em> exactly </em> what he meant. “I’m not going to drink, asshole, I’m going because drunk folks hand out the best free information.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>“Have you really never had to track someone to capture or assassinate them before me?” Cas went silent and sat up straighter in his saddle. Dean deflated a little at the sight, realizing that in letting Cas tag along to track down the Hellspawn, he not only put a target on his back, but would put Cas at risk of becoming a creature like him. Dean tried to console himself by reminding himself that Cas wouldn’t be the first person he dragged through the mud with him and he probably wouldn’t be the last. It almost worked. Almost.</p><p>They attracted the attention of a few people as they rode in, probably because of the bloodstains still visible on their clothes. Dean knew from experience that it wouldn’t get them kicked out of anywhere, just a couple odd looks, but even so they’d have to be wary. Dean climbed off Baby, tying her to a nearby post and Cas did the same with his horse (Phyllis, he thought he’d heard Cas call her). Shoving the doors open, Dean paraded into the saloon, drawing all eyes in the room to him. They looked away eventually, but that was his plan. He wanted each person in there to get a good look at him and remember that he meant business when he talked to them.</p><p>Dean ordered two whiskeys, hoping Cas had a high enough tolerance to down one without too much trouble and still be able to interrogate the saloon’s patrons. The second whiskey went untouched as they scoped out the room. Dean downed his glass in one gulp and they wordlessly set off in separate directions. He found himself at a table in the corner and he patiently observed the game of cards they had going, waiting until it finished to ask, “Any of you heard of the Hellspawn?” to which he got a chorus of affirmations, only for none of them to actually know anything of their whereabouts.</p><p>Dean repeated the process, going from table to table, with no more luck than he’d had with the first table. Cas didn’t seem to fare any better, if the slight slump of his shoulders that Dean had come to recognize so easily meant anything. They sat and Dean drank until a burly, bearded man took the seat on his left. With a thick Louisiana accent, he asked, “I heard you boys were lookin’ for the Hellspawn.”</p><p>“Yeah, you know anything?” Dean turned to get a real look at the guy and almost immediately got stuck on his eyes. They reminded him a lot of Cas’ eyes, and he couldn’t help but long for the one person he’d grown to trust in the past few years. The way Cas couldn’t even look him in the face anymore left Dean to believe he may never see Cas’ beautiful eyes again. Guy had a nice face, too, he supposed. But the eyes drew him in, left him wanting to fill a hole that would never seem to close.</p><p>“Depends. There’s a reward on their heads and I’m going after it. You gon’ help me?” he asked.</p><p>“Just tell us what you know,” Cas snapped.</p><p>“Sorry, cher. Can only give you what you need if you agree to do me a favor in return. So either you’re in,” he drawled, turning his attention to Dean, “or you’re out.”</p><p>Giving the guy a once over (maybe a bit more deliberate than he’d like to admit), Dean glanced at Cas, who glared daggers at both of them. Dean realized having another person with them wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all. “Yeah, alright we’re in. I’m Dean,” he said, holding out his hand to shake.</p><p>“Benny. You sure your friend here’s gonna be okay with me taggin’ along?” Benny shook Dean’s hand, glancing warily at Cas. </p><p>Yeah, Cas is fine,” he said pointedly. Benny didn’t seem convinced.</p><p>“Heard they were here ‘bout a week ago, jus’ passin’ through. Headed north after stayin’ a night or two. Hotel clerk said they were lookin’ for revenge on some guy.” Benny said eventually.</p><p>“Some guy? Who?” Cas asked, leaning back in his seat in feigned relaxation. Dean could see every muscle tense, like a predator waiting for an excuse to strike.</p><p>“Guy who wiped ‘em out. S’why I’m goin’ after ‘em. Someone cut down their numbers. Now there’s only about ten of ‘em, last I heard. Guy’s basically a legend. Hell I even heard some people call him ‘the Righteous Man’. Guess the name makes sense.” Benny kept on going, even as Dean shifted uncomfortably in his seat and Cas shot him a pointed glare. Dean knew full well what Benny’d think if he found out he was talking with the guy who did it, and he didn’t want to take that chance. Even more so, he didn’t want to deal with Cas afterwards. “If the rumors are true, he must have killed what, least thirty? Forty? Hell, I’d bet even fifty based on what they’ve done to some places. Can’t do damage like that without big numbers or raw talent on your side.” Dean flinched. “Swear, if I ever met the guy who did it, I’d buy him a beer. Sure as hell made my job easier now. Maybe he’d even help. Fuckin’ hope so. I don’t know, though. I might be kinda scared’a him. I’d still buy him a drink though.”</p><p>Benny would be joining the team. He deserved to know. Cas <em> didn’t </em> know and it’s what got them into the argument in the first place. If he were to tell Benny, he’d be doing the right thing. Dean told himself as much, and it still felt wrong to say, “Well, buddy, I guess you owe me another round.”</p><p>Benny froze for a minute, looking back and forth between him and Cas, as if he thought Cas helped. Cas shook his head and jerked his chin at Dean as if to say, <em> ‘All him.’ </em> Awesome. Dean had to take the brunt of the inevitable conversation alone. “Well then. Er, whiskey?” Dean nodded, and Benny signaled to the bartender to bring over two more rounds.</p><p>“You’re taking this kinda well,” Dean offered. He glanced briefly at Cas. Cas glared back. “If you don’t wanna stay, that’s cool, but if you do, you best not act all weird. Like, I’m still just a guy, okay? Don’t be scared of me and then wind up with one foot out the door. Either you’re in, or you’re out.” Dean didn’t know if he was speaking only to Benny at that point. Cas sure didn’t seem to think so.</p><p>Benny considered it for a moment, sipping absently at his drink before simply saying, “Then I’m in, cher.” And that was that.</p><p>They went about planning what they were going to do once they found the Hellspawn. Cas shot Benny the occasional withering look and Dean eventually realized he was jealous. Yeah, maybe Dean had shown Benny the same attention he once gave Cas, but that was a bridge they’d <em> both </em> burned. If Cas couldn’t handle Dean moving on, that was his problem, not Dean’s. Or so Dean told himself.</p><p>Eventually, after quite a few more rounds, they came to the decision to head out sooner than later, since Benny claimed the town they needed to reach was only a couple days’ ride and considerably larger than the one they found themselves in. With newly replenished supplies and heightened spirits, the three set off with tension still hanging heavy in the air.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Benny, as it turned out, had been right. The town was only a couple day’s ride, granted they only took a few rest breaks. Dean was mostly against that unspoken agreement, but he realized it meant less opportunity for Cas to snap at him or Benny and went along with it. He had to remind himself as they rode in silence that it didn’t actually sting that much - Cas’ opinion of him. It really didn’t because it would mean that he ended up caring for the guy, and Dean just didn’t <em> do </em> that anymore. He couldn’t afford to.</p><p>Eventually, though, the tension slowly eased. Dean found himself bored out of his mind and struck up conversation with Benny, who seemed grateful for something to do. Cas kept his trap shut for the most part, chiming in only when Benny was ballsy enough to ask him a question directly, but by the end of the second day, much of the animosity Cas held for Benny seemed to fade. </p><p>For Dean however… He knew full well the only reason Cas hated Benny still was because of how familiar he and Dean seemed, the looks they shot one another up ahead on the trail. Although, it was Cas’ fucking fault for being a jackass and not opening up to the idea of a new member of their little band of misfits - especially one who wouldn’t act like a piece of shit towards Dean - but there wasn’t a hell of a lot Dean could do about that. The damage had already been done. </p><p>The second evening, Dean got fed up with the way Cas had been acting. He started treating Benny like a real person while still being a motherfucker towards Dean. Dean wanted revenge. He scooted closer to Benny by the fire, almost curling into his side. “For warmth,” he shrugged when looks were thrown his way. Cas looked as if he wanted to murder the both of them. Dean thought it was almost funny. Almost.</p><p>The third day, they arrived at the town just before nightfall, the previous night pretty much forgotten by Benny. Dean still remembered because judging by the way Cas glared at him, he remembered too. Even so, hearing of the Hellspawn in town both put them on their guard and lent them cause to celebrate. They finally found the Hellspawn, after all.</p><p>Turned out, between the three of them, they had just enough money for each to have a hotel room of their own, plus extra for food for the next few days. Cas checked them in, handing out room keys as he returned. As it so happened, Cas was right in the middle, with Dean at the far wall and Benny closest to the stairwell connecting the two stories. The choice must have been deliberate, Dean figured. It was smart on Cas’ part, he had to admit. It protected him from the Hellspawn and the Hellspawn from him. If they heard he was in town and decided to get revenge, they’d probably make a beeline for his room, ignoring Cas and Benny which would allow them to trap the demons at the end of the hall. Likewise, if Dean decided to go off alone, both Cas and Benny would be in a position to stop him fairly easily. Dean knew it was smart, but he was still a little annoyed that Cas even had to think of it in the first place. That he even <em> knew </em> to think of the latter part.</p><p>They parted ways for the night, each with a tray of food they bought downstairs. Dean ate in silence, truly alone with his mind for the first time in a long time. It scared him, if he thought about it at all, but his thoughts drifted, landing where they almost always did: Cas. He thought back to the beginning of the whole mess, trying to find a way to reassure himself that it was Cas in the wrong, not him. When they first met, Cas knew exactly who he was, and he didn’t know anything other than the fact that he wanted Cas to rail him. Obviously, Dean was at a disadvantage. But for all Cas knew about him, he didn’t know the one fact that apparently had become a legend in and of itself. And Dean decided that was Cas’ problem. If the guy didn’t know perhaps the most popular topic of gossip at the time, then he had no right to go blaming it on Dean.</p><p>But maybe he did, Dean supposed. Cas didn’t know at first, and then they got to know one another more or less, and Dean convinced him to give up his entire life for just one guy, and even in all the secrets they told one another, Dean simply didn’t share that one. He coveted it. <em> To keep Cas safe. </em> Well, look where that got him.</p><p>Then the cat finally got let out of the bag and when all was said and done, Cas seemed more pissed that he didn’t tell him, than the fact that he even did it in the first place. But either way, it was Dean’s fault. It was Dean’s fault, and that pissed him off the most. Dean was furious with himself for being in the wrong, for screwing things up the way he always did, and he turned that anger on Cas because it was the only way he knew how to defend himself.</p><p>Dean reminded himself that the only reason he was mad at Cas was because Cas was mad at him, and he was simply returning the animosity so he didn’t get hurt. But he did get hurt, didn’t he?</p><p>What the hell are you supposed to do when a good man hurts you, but you hurt him too? Cas pushed him away, but he also pushed Cas away, and he missed the bastard. He missed his smile, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed at something stupid Dean said. He missed the way Cas almost made him feel like he was better than what he’d done. He missed the outline of his face when it was lit by the sunrise coming up over the hills beyond the cabin when they stopped there the first time, an image seared into his mind forever. He missed <em> Cas. </em> The guy was only a thin wall away from him, yet Dean missed him as if he’d died, and it <em> hurt </em>. It hurt so fucking bad and then he was pissed all over again and he just needed to do something, anything, to get Cas out of his head, but he couldn’t go out into town because it was dangerous so he had to stay in the hotel. </p><p>An idea came to him in that moment. He knew full well it was the worst idea he’d had in his life, but he somehow convinced himself it was the best. Not only would it get Cas off his mind, it would hopefully piss Cas off enough that he’d get off Dean’s ass for a day or two. Hopefully. If all went the way he believed it would.</p><p>Creeping out into the hallway, he checked to make sure no staff members were still about before walking across the creaky floorboards, past Cas’ room, and stopping to knock on the door to Benny’s.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He snuck back into his own room early in the morning, just before the sun started to rise, and dozed off for a few more hours in his own bed. The sheets were cold from having gone unused during the night, and they were stained with substances Dean didn’t even want to guess at. The bed was comfy, though. It was enough.</p><p>Cas didn’t acknowledge him for the rest of the day, except to mutter to him and Benny, “I’m going to the saloon. Don’t wait up on me.” He must have heard Dean walk past his room, then. Good. At least one part of his plan worked.</p><p>Reluctant as Dean was to let <em> anyone </em> go off alone with the Hellspawn in town, he knew that being with him put a larger target on a person than being alone. So he let Cas go. He and Benny spent the rest of the day cleaning up their rugged appearances, doing laundry, asking around discreetly for information, and stocking up on supplies. Dean avoided the saloon, though. Benny clearly noticed his hesitancy to go, but didn’t say anything. Not until early in the evening, once they’d done just about as much bullshit as Dean could come up with. They’d just finished purchasing new riding gloves for Dean and had returned to the hotel when Benny finally called him out on his bullshit. </p><p>“Hey, whaddya say we go down to the saloon, ask around?” Dean stiffened, rapidly trying to come up with an excuse.</p><p>The best he could think of was, “Cas is already doing that.”</p><p>Benny huffed and crossed his arms. “Yeah, and he’s been doin’ it all day. Maybe he’s actually got something by now. We should check in. Except something tells me this has nothing to do with Cas being there already.”</p><p><em> Secrets got you into this mess with Cas, </em> he reminded himself. <em> Maybe sharing them is the way to get out. </em> “Actually, it kinda has everything to do with Cas being there. I dunno if you could tell, but Cas is kinda pissed at me - ” Benny snorted, “ - and I really don’t wanna deal with him right now.”</p><p>“Why’s he pissed at you? What, you owe him money or somethin’?” Benny joked. His soft laughter faded, however, when he saw whatever look Dean knew was on his face.</p><p>“Or something. He, uh, found something out that I’d decided he should have already known, and he was pissed about it. I think he’s also kinda scared of me, but that ain’t nothing new.”</p><p>“Cher, I’m gonna need a lot more than that if I’m supposed to understand what the hell happened between you two. Now, you ain’t gotta say nothin’ if you don’t want, but if you got somethin’ you wanna get off your chest, I’m here.” Benny paused, thinking. “That sounded like we’re a couple’a chicks talking about… whatever the fuck it is they talk about. But I mean it, Dean. I’ve seen enough that I’d probably be of some help.”</p><p>Dean considered Benny’s offer for a moment, then sighed. What the hell, right? He decided to ‘fess up. It was rough, he had to admit, reliving everything that had happened, including the whole part with the Hellspawn, but he made it through. Leaving out some of the more… personal parts, of course.</p><p>After he’d finished, Benny let out a low whistle before falling silent. “Shit, Dean,” he finally said. “I, uh. I think you best go apologize.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Dean breathed. Wordlessly, they rose from where they’d been sitting on Dean’s bed and walked the couple blocks to the saloon. When they arrived, it was nearly silent. The occasional whisper or rustle of clothing broke the stillness, but considering the number of people in the room, Dean should have hardly been able to hear himself think. </p><p>He walked up to the bar, Benny trailing just behind him, on his guard, eyes never leaving the spooked patrons. Because that’s what they were, Dean realized. Something had happened to scare them out of their fucking minds. A shiver ran down his spine.</p><p>He rapped on the wood a couple times, easily getting the bartender’s attention. “You seen a guy ‘round here? Uh, about yay high, blue eyes, dark hair, probably ordered a few rounds of your hardest liquor?” He prayed the bartender would say yes. He had a feeling he wouldn’t. Dean was afraid that whatever happened there had something to do with Cas.</p><p>“Are you Dean Winchester?” the bartender simply asked.</p><p>“Who’s askin’?”</p><p>“They said you would be here. Left you a note.”</p><p>“Wh- what? Who?” Dean demanded. Maybe it was Cas. Hopefully it was Cas.</p><p>The guy didn’t answer, instead handing Dean a folded piece of paper in a familiar, messy scrawl. Dean’s stomach turned and he rushed for the alley, hearing Benny say a quick, “Thank you,” to the bartender before following. Dean collapsed against the wall and read the note by the light of the rapidly fading sun.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Dean Winchester, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> You really think we wouldn’t want revenge? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Love,  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Your best friends, Alistair and Azazel </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. I Know, And I'm Sorry I Ever Let You Go</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dean was gonna fucking kill him. He’d fucking kill them all. He let them go once but he swore to the fucking God that wasn’t listening that he would save Cas even if it meant he had to take the whole operation down. Even if he had to take himself down with it. </p><p>Cas was gone and it was his fault because he <em> had </em> to be a dick over some stupid, stupid argument. Shit. <em> Shit. </em> If Cas died, it would be his fault. <em> “Fuck!” </em> he screamed. </p><p>Benny, who was still there for some fucking reason, flinched. He cautiously approached Dean, hesitating with every step. Dean could see it. He could see each muscle tense and relax and tense as it moved, each one capable of lashing out and hitting him. Dean could <em> feel </em> himself stung tight, ready to spring into action. But this was just Benny. Benny wouldn’t hurt him. Dean knew that, and yet he couldn’t seem to relax. He felt like he could tear the whole world apart with his bare hands and he wanted to scream at Benny to run, to get away, to keep his distance so he wouldn’t get hurt, but he couldn’t move.</p><p>Benny placed his hand on Dean’s shoulder and without thinking, he reacted. He aimed his right hook at Benny’s face, already reaching for the knife in his boot. Luckily for him, he never got to pull it out. The punch landed on Benny’s cheek and Dean froze in horror at what he’d done. Benny must have noticed (of fucking course he did), and he backed away slightly, one hand cupping his face and the other raising slowly into the air. “I ain’t gonna hurt you, cher. Jus’ calm down for me, alright? Can you do that? Take a deep breath, come on now, it’s alright?” he went on and on, talking Dean down until he felt like he could breathe again. His fist relaxed at his side. He didn’t remember when his nails started digging into his palm.</p><p>“Benny, I’m so fucking sorry. Shit, I-” He didn’t even know what to say.</p><p>“I told you, Dean, it’s alright. I’m fine,” Benny insisted. Dean knew it wasn’t true, not entirely. He had a mean right hook.</p><p>“No, it’s not fucking alright, I-” he cut himself off, trying to make the point they’d probably both been thinking of. “You know what, Benny? I think… I think we should, y’know, go our separate ways. Just for a little bit, until I’ve gone and got Cas. I don’t… This is how I was. When I- When everything with the demons happened. I couldn’t stop myself, didn’t bother paying attention to who got in my way and it was fine then because they were all bad people but- I don’t want to accidentally hurt you because I can’t control myself. After this is all over, we can meet back up, go after whoever’s left, all that. But for now…”</p><p>“I should keep my distance. End o’ the line and whatnot,” Benny shrugged.</p><p>“Yeah. Meet me back here, though, alright? I should be back in town in a week and if I’m not… y’know. But I’ll see you again, okay? Just not- not right now. I don’t wanna… well, you know what I mean.”</p><p>“No, I get it, Dean. I’ll see you ‘round, yeah?”</p><p>“Yeah. I’m sorry Benny, I really am.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Dean sat in the alley for hours, long after Benny left him alone. It wasn’t until the sun rose once again that he hauled himself to his feet. Fury spread through every nook and cranny of his body, from his gut to his fingertips, and he decided to break into the house of the saloon owner, shaking him awake and demanding to know where they went. It was rude and unlikely to get him an accurate answer, he knew that, but he could feel himself regressing to the <em> thing </em> he’d become when riding with the demons.</p><p>The guy groaned as he woke up with Dean pinning him to the bed, knife at his throat, and Dean repeated himself. “Where did they go?”</p><p>“I-I uh, heard they headed north, but that’s all I know, I swear,” he croaked. “P-please don’t kill me.”</p><p>Dean chuckled and removed his knife from the guy’s throat, delivering a swift blow to the head that would hopefully let the guy forget everything that just happened. If he blabbed and Dean found himself with a price on his head, he’d come back for the guy. After he saved Cas.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The Hellspawn posted sentries along their route. Dean learned this when a guy ended up dead on the side of the road after he attacked him. His companion soon joined him. A shame, Dean thought, given that he could have made him spill the beans on the Hellspawn’s location.</p><p>He kept on the lookout, though, as he followed the road north, and sure enough, another two jumped him after a couple hours. He killed the first one as he dismounted, the demon thinking his exposed back was a genuine weakness, not a trap. The second one tried to sweep him off his feet as he was occupied with shoving the other’s corpse out of the way, but all it did was leave Dean a chance to knock him flat on his back, Dean’s boot knife pressed to his throat.</p><p>“Where’s the Angel?” Dean screamed, knowing no one could hear them but not caring even if someone could. The demon just chuckled. That is, until Dean sliced his Achilles tendon in half. Dean smirked as the laughter turned to cries, just as the other demons’ had all those months ago. “Now, I’m gonna say it again: Where’s my Angel?”</p><p>The Hellspawn hissed through his teeth, opening and closing his mouth a couple times before replying, “North. Boss said som- something about a town they were... gonna find. Down- down the road.”</p><p>“Now, that wasn’t so hard,” Dean said, frowning. “You new recruits break too easy. You always did. You’re all the same. Filth.” He debated jamming the knife through the demon’s chest right then and there, ending it so he could go find Cas. But the small part of him that the Hellspawn had brought out told him he should wait. Drag it out. Give the guy a nice warm welcome in the way that things used to be done when he was in Hell. The rest of him fought it, fought the idea of indulging something so horrible, but eventually the demon in him won, and he let it take its fill.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>They had been there, alright. As far as he could tell, there were only a few buildings in town to begin with, but they’d been leveled, save for one wall of what was probably an inn, judging by the sign half hanging off the front of the wall. A fire still burned to his left, and Dean figured that the Hellspawn kept it burning, just to let him know they were still around. On the side of the wall was a message painted in what was probably blood. Alistair enjoyed being dramatic like that. It read:</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>Dean (you know who you are),</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>Down the trail out of town is a cave. Come fast. </em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>I can’t promise your boy toy will still be alive when you get here.</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>-A &lt;3</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>Dean fell to his knees beside the fire as the night grew dark, and grieved. He grieved for the townspeople who paid for his stupidity in their blood. He grieved for Cas. And he grieved for the gentle being he had managed to become despite having been a demon, the gentle person he had to shove away for the time being, because the gentle being couldn’t do what he needed to. He wondered if he could ever become it again. In a moment of weakness - or strength, depending who you ask - he decided to try something he never dared to do before.</p><p> “You know, I ain’t much of the praying type, but if, <em> if, </em> there is anyone out there, I hope you got your listening ears on. My- my... friend, Cas he- he’s gone. A couple of people I used to ride with came and stole him right from under my nose and it- it’s all my fault, ‘cause, see, I pushed him away and I shouldn't... I shouldn’t have done that. He deserves so much better than this, than me, so just… if you-... Can you keep an eye on him for me? Can you jus- just make sure he stays alive until I can get there? I can do the rest but I need… I need him to be okay. I just want him to know I’m sorry.”</p><p>Not once before had Dean ever prayed. Not once. But, desperate times call for desperate measures, and he figured it couldn’t possibly hurt to take a shot at faith. Dad told him, once, that his mom had faith. Dad said Sam took after her a lot, in that they both believed there was something out there. Something <em> good. </em> Dad told them about Mom, that she’d pray every night before bed. That she told him angels were watching over him. Well, shit. Look where that got him.</p><p>Cas had faith too, didn’t he? He used to. And then he met Dean and Dean fucked that up for him too. He just fucked up everything, didn’t he? Shit. </p><p>Dean dug his fingernails into his palm. Closing his fist tight and squeezing his other hand around it, he savored the pain. It served as a welcome distraction from the tears streaming down his face.</p><p>The firelight danced across the circles under his eyes. Anyone watching would hardly believe he was human.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. The Mighty Fall</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The cave was exactly where Alistair promised, and Dean sagged in relief as he rapidly conceived of a plan in his mind. Then he realized that no plan was better than running in, guns blazing. Strategically, it was the worst possible plan and he knew it. But the irrational part of him said that it would be okay because he’d done it before and survived. And even if he didn’t survive, it would be fine as long as Cas did. <em> Because that’s what this is about, </em> he reminded himself. <em> I’m here to save Cas, to fix </em> my <em> mistake. It doesn’t matter what happens to me as long as he’s okay. As long as I make this right. </em></p><p>He dismounted Baby and left her just out of sight of the guards at the mouth of the cave. He’d seen a stream not too far off, close enough that she’d be able to find it if she needed to. Dean planned for someone to make it back to her, to either ride her somewhere or set her free, but he didn’t tie her up. Just in case. If he failed, he didn’t want Baby to suffer for it too. He trusted her to stay as long as he’d need her, and leave if he took too long. He’d known her long enough to be certain that she would be safe. And that was that.</p><p>Sneaking through the underbrush, Dean pulled the knife back out of his boot, its hilt still flecked with blood that wouldn’t quite wipe off. He savored the familiar weight of it in his palm from the old days as he set about his task.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Voices echoed down the hall, but Dean tuned them out in favor of the sound of his blade slicing open the throat of the nearest lackey. That was the last one. The last Hellspawn was dead. Save for Azazel and Alistair, of course, but they were to be taken care of separately. Sneaking down the silent corridor, Dean tuned into what was being said in the chamber at the end of the hall. At the sound of a familiar gravelly voice telling someone to, “Stick it where the sun don’t shine, you goddamn horse fucker,” Dean almost started sprinting, but a new, equally familiar voice stopped him dead in his tracks. </p><p>“Oh but it’s just getting interesting. ‘Technically, I suppose, it wasn’t cheating because Dean was never mine in the first place. So why does it feel like betrayal?’ How sickeningly poetic. You love him, don’t you. Shame he doesn’t love you back, or he’d be here.” The hairs on the back of Dean’s neck rose at the sound of Alistair’s nasally ass voice, one he never thought he’d hear again. One he secretly <em> hoped </em> he’d never hear again. But for him to think he had any right to say those things to Cas… Someone had to stop him.</p><p>And Dean was the bastard lucky enough to have the chance.</p><p>He crept around the corner, pulling out the gun his father gave him a few months before he died. <em> “If you ever find them, you use this. Promise me, Dean. Promise me this’ll be the gun that does them in.” </em> Dean, at the ripe old age of fifteen, did promise. He swore he’d kill them with the Colt, and now it was time to make good on his word. Taking the time to line up a good shot - he only had one chance before he lost the element of surprise - Dean pulled the trigger and watched with no small amount of satisfaction as the bullet struck Azazel between the eyes, leaving him crumpling to the ground.</p><p>“Hello Alistair,” Dean sneered. “Did you miss me?”</p><p>“Oh you know I did. There’s someone I’d like you to meet, Deano. Well, I believe you are both familiar with one another in the biblical sense, but from what I’ve heard, the two of you have become near strangers as of late,” Alistair taunted.</p><p>“Where. Is. He,” Dean growled, inching closer, a knife clutched tightly in his fist.</p><p>Alistair rolled his eyes and gestured to the side of his “throne” opposite Dean. A strangled groan came from the floor and Dean ran to its source. “Cas?” he asked, cautiously placing his hands on Cas’ face, his arms, his chest. Cas didn’t answer. “Cas!” His voice broke. “The hell did you do to him?” Dean screamed.</p><p>“Not much he didn’t already do to himself. Aside from the uh, knife wounds, he was mostly already like this. We snatched lover boy here from the saloon a few towns over. Poor, helpless thing was drunk as shit. Figured out why as soon as I read his diary: he was upset because you ‘bwoke his wittle heart’, so he ran off. Azazel said we should fetch you too, but I said ‘Eh, I know him,’” Alistair chuckled maliciously. “‘He’ll come.’ Although, after reading this,” Alistair waved around a small leather book that Dean soon realized was Cas’ journal, “I wasn’t so sure. The way he describes how you treat him? But, the poor fucker’s still whipped and here you are anyways. Says a lot, dontcha think?” Alistair drawled.</p><p>“Let him go, he’s got nothing to do with this.”</p><p>“Nothing? Oh, he’s got <em> everything </em> to do with this, boy. Do you not understand how useful he is to me? An Angel, a member of our opposition. And the lover of the one who left my operation in ruins. Oh, the leverage on this one.” He lifted a small knife to Cas’ cheek and sliced quick and deep, eliciting a whimper from the man on the floor. “Although, I suppose he’s only an <em> ex </em>- member of the Angels. Still, he gets me a leg up on you. As long as he’s suffering, that is. So I will repeat: No, I will not let him go.”</p><p>“Alistair, <em> please.” </em></p><p>“Oh, begging now, are we? I won’t let you take him with you, no, but I can do this instead.” Alistair grabbed a handful of Cas’ unkempt hair and pulled his head back. Cas cooperated easily in his semi conscious state. He drove a blade into the soft skin of Cas’ neck, still not slicing enough to kill. Not now.</p><p>“Leave him alone, Alistair.”</p><p>“I’d really rather not.”</p><p>Dean twirled his dagger menacingly and pressed it up against Alistair’s throat, glancing to the side every now and then to check on Cas. Alistair noticed his distraction and tracked the movement with his eyes. Dean’s heart pounded. Pressing harder with his blade, he demanded “I said, let him go.”</p><p>Too busy making sure Cas was still breathing to pay enough attention to Alistair, Dean didn’t notice the hand shoving his dagger off Alistair’s throat. Nor did he notice the knife slice open Cas’ until it was too late. No. </p><p>No. “No. No no no, you-“ He couldn’t finish. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. Cas just- Cas just died. Alistair just <em> killed </em> him. Alistair killed Cas. He killed his Castiel. Alistair killed him and he was sitting right there and Dean could just return the favor because he was sitting right there and he killed Cas. He deserved to die for that. The world deserved to die for failing to keep Cas alive.</p><p>Dean deserved to die for getting Cas killed.</p><p>His vision went red.</p><p>Alistair laughed. It was a grating sound. “Oh, oh dear. Oh! Let me guess what you’re thinking. Hmm… ‘I came here to save him, and yet…’ Because that was your goal, right? You tell yourself you want to kill Azazel and I, but it was all about saving one Angel. To save <em> ‘Cas’ </em>. Well guess what? He’s dead, too. So, are we going to settle this like men now?”</p><p>“Stupid fucking choice you made there, but I’ll bite. Let’s fight. Right here, right now.”</p><p>Alistair considered it. He looked at Dean, then at what used to be Cas, then back to Dean’s grief stricken face. Alistair laughed. “You love him.” It wasn’t quite a question. “He loved you too, you know. Died loving you, thinking you didn’t love him back. How tragic. Very <em> Romeo and Juliet. </em>”</p><p>“Shut the fuck up and <em> fight me, you coward!” </em> Dean screamed.</p><p>“You’ve got interesting ways of showing love, Deano,” Alistair crooned, dropping his knife and letting the clatter echo through the chamber. “You left the poor Angel alone to die. I’d hardly call that <em> love.” </em> </p><p>“Coward!” he screamed again, trying to tune out his former master’s words. He punched Alistair right in the jaw, just barely not hard enough to know him out.</p><p>Alistair seethed, swinging at Dean with his left, a cheap shot he ducked easily only for Alistair to knock the dagger out of his hand, sending it clattering across the cold stone floor. Dean scrambled after it, earning a forceful blow to his spine that left him in a heap on the floor. He rolled away from Alistair’s next swing just in time, hissing in pain as he got to his feet. Alistair raised his fists, the fight truly getting started. Dean spat blood.</p><p>Barely dodging a hook aimed for the nose, Dean delivered a swift kick to Alistair’s stomach, sending him stumbling backwards. Alistair almost fell on his ass, but he didn’t, so Dean took advantage of his disoriented state to pepper his face and stomach with vigorous blows. His knuckles dripped with both of their blood and his vision blacked out occasionally. </p><p>Dean kicked Alistair’s knee, bending it backwards and crunching bone. Alistair crumpled to the floor. Looking down at the figure hunched over itself on the floor, Dean could hardly see a person. All he could see was a <em> thing. </em> A <em> thing </em> responsible for the suffering of many, the deaths of hundreds. Among those were his mother. Cas. Everything he thought he knew about himself. And that, he believed, was perhaps the worst part. He already wanted to make him <em> pay </em> for his mother, a woman who had two young boys and almost her entire life ahead of her. As if that wasn’t enough, he killed Cas just to get at Dean. He was simply another useless life, collateral damage.</p><p>But truly the worst part was how Alistair killed <em> him. </em> Who he was. After his mom, Dean wasn’t exactly the most innocent, perfect soul, but he did what he had to in order to survive and keep Sam happy, nothing more. Joining the Hellspawn was more of the same in that area. It was join, or leave Sam hanging. But from there, Alistair himself carved him into something that did <em> more </em> than the minimum necessary to survive. He cut away the real old him, until there was nothing left. Oh, how he’d savor the death of the man responsible for that.</p><p>He reached down to retrieve the dagger that he lost earlier, but Alistair was faster, snatching it off the ground before he could even reach it. Dean jumped back, now at a disadvantage. He continued backing up, Alistair still advancing, matching him step for step. Dean felt the leg of a chair press into his calf and he knew he’d made it to his destination. He gave himself to the count of three, then dropped to the ground to grab Alistair’s discarded knife. That move, however swift, cost him.</p><p>Alistair used his brief instability to shove him flat on the cold floor and pin his arms to the ground with his knees. Leaning over him, Alistair whispered, “You thought you could just waltz in here with a couple weapons and your pride and just get away with it? This isn’t a fairy tale, Dean. Heroes lose.” Fitting, Dean thought, that it was his own knife that plunged into his stomach, guided by Alistair’s hand. There was some sort of poetry there, but the pain took over too much of his mind for him to piece together why. The dagger hurt just as much coming out as it did going in.</p><p>“You’re right,” he rasped, using his little strength to shove Alistair’s knife into his neck. “So it’s a good thing I ain’t a hero.”</p><p>Withdrawing the knife from where it was lodged in Alistair’s throat, Dean shoved his former mentor’s corpse aside and crawled over to Cas, his hand clutching his abdomen. It hurt, it hurt like a son of a bitch, but nothing could compare to the pain of losing Cas. Not now that it hit him in full force. He wished he didn’t know how to measure that pain. Not from experience.</p><p>With what little strength he had left, Dean reached out and caressed Cas’ face. He realized he didn’t even know Cas’ last name. Dean was the only one left in the desolate chamber, and as the darkness slowly started to overtake him, he spoke. </p><p>“Cas? Cas I- I know you can’t hear me. That no matter where you are, it’s too late. I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t have left you that night. I should have stayed with you. You- I’d like to call you my best friend but I- I left. ‘Cause it was easier than admitting I was wrong,” Dean whispered. If he had faith like Cas used to, he could pretend he was praying. But he didn’t. So he wrapped his arms around Cas’ lifeless body and held him tight, as if it would save them both. “I don’t know why I get like that, why I get so angry, but it- it’s just always been there. And when things get bad, i- it comes out and I can’t… I can’t stop it. God, I wish I could but- but I can’t and then people get hurt. And the- the people I… the people I love, they get killed. And now- now we’re here. I’m sorry, Cas. I am. I am so sorry. For all of it. For... me.</p><p>“I love you.”</p><p>As his breaths became shallower and further between, the last thing the Righteous Man thought was: <em> So what if I die? </em></p>
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<a name="section0011"><h2>11. This Is The Soft Epilogue, My Love</h2></a>
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    <p>Cas waited at the bar for Dean to arrive. In actuality, it was only minutes that passed, but it felt like years. Maybe it was the other way around. Cas hadn’t been there for long, but he could already tell that time doesn’t work the same here. He was right.</p><p>Cas wouldn’t begin to suspect his location for a long time, not until long after Dean arrived. When Dean showed up behind the counter, he had no idea what he was doing there. He remembered the cave with Alistair, and he remembered dying, and therefore he was confused as to why the bar didn’t look like Hell. He said nothing, though. He figured as long as he didn’t question the fluke, he would get to stay with Cas. He, too, was right. He <em> did </em> get to stay with Cas. He was wrong, however, about his presence being a fluke. For as much as he believed himself to deserve the flames of Hell, Dean Winchester was sent to Heaven upon his death. Not on accident or because he cheated the game, but because he well and truly deserved paradise with his beloved. (If he has any problems with that, he knows exactly where to take them: the man writing his story. He has, in fact, taken them up with the author, and let me tell you, he wasn’t nice about it either. But he’s learning to accept his place here and I’m proud of him. But it’s not all thanks to me.)</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Years down the line, a curly haired, fiery woman walks into the bar. The lighting casts her in shadow, but Dean recognizes her immediately. “Cassie? What’re you doing at Rocky’s?” Dean calls from his place behind the bar. (A bar, I may add, that Dean cleans thoroughly at least twice a day. Cas tells him to stop being such a hardass and Dean tells him to shut up because he’s never had his own saloon before and he wants to do everything in his power to keep it in tiptop shape.)</p><p>“Word ‘round the block is that this is where the party is. Thought I’d come see for myself if it was true,” she grins, stepping fully into the light as Dean leaves his post to pull her in for a hug. “I missed you, Dean.”</p><p>“Yeah. I missed you too,” he tells her awkwardly. It’s true, he did miss her, but in the way you miss an old best friend from high school. “There’s uh… there’s someone I want you to meet.”</p><p>“Ooh, Dean Winchester really found himself a girl that could put up with his obnoxious eating habits?! I don’t believe it,” Cassie teases, all in good fun, shoving his shoulder and giving him a genuine, <em> ''I'm so happy for you </em>” smile.</p><p>“Yeah, something like that,” Dean smiles back. “Hey, Cas! Babe, come over here, there’s someone I want you to meet.”</p><p>“Her name’s ‘Cas’? Really?”</p><p>“Short for Castiel, alright?” </p><p>“Whatever you say.”</p><p>Cas appears seemingly out of nowhere next to Dean, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek and slipping an arm around his waist, long hairs falling partway in his face (That’s another thing about Heaven. It’s safe, safe enough that Cas doesn't feel like he needs to keep his hair cropped short anymore. He’s let it grow out nice and long and Dean pretends he’ll only allow it if Cas wears a cowboy hat, too. Just because. But honestly, Dean likes the hair either way). Dean turns bright red. “Hey, uh, Cas, meet Cassie. She’s an old friend; she stopped by for a drink. Cassie, this is Cas.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>Dean can’t read the look on Cassie’s face, but it turns out he doesn’t need to. She breaks into a grin, looking back and forth between the two of them. “I’m so happy for you. Both of you. So, Cas, how the hell did Dean convince you he was a real keeper?” </p><p>Cas laughs and takes Cassie by the arm, leading her to the bar and pouring her a drink as they talk. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Dean mutters light heartedly, no real anger in the words. He’s glad two of the most important people in his life—even if it’s been years since he saw one of them—get along so well.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Benny comes along soon after, and Sam and his girl - Eileen - not long after that. Because Dean’s luck is the absolute shittiest (I think it’s really fucking funny), Benny and Cassie really hit it off and become fast friends. Now that’s a duo he never imagined having to deal with, and therefore never imagined the power they could hold over him. Now he knows. They are absolutely <em> ruthless. </em> With the occasional embarrassing story from Sam, they’ve got enough dirt on him to make Cas run for the hills. Except he doesn’t, of course, because it’s Cas and Cas loves him just as much as he loves Cas, and after everything he’s been through, he deserves to have something like that. (See? I told you we were working on it!)</p><p>Since time is all wonky in Heaven, Dean’s been able to discover music that hadn’t been invented when he died. Naturally, he got really into what’s apparently called “Classic Rock”. Cas doesn’t entirely agree, but he loves hearing Dean sing. Dean has a beautiful voice. He’s not the only one who thinks so. Everyone who comes to karaoke nights agrees. Another perk of Heaven: they can have karaoke nights because, um, Cas doesn’t really understand where the music comes from but it does come from somewhere - maybe? - and that’s enough.</p><p>On karaoke nights, people pack themselves into nearly every inch of the place, all talking over one another but still not quite loud enough to be heard over whoever belts out a drunken one-hit-wonder into the air, voice amplified by the design of the room. Despite how guilty he feels every time, Dean’s forced to call in a couple extra hands to help manage the sheer size of the crowd - he can’t wait twenty packed tables on his own. Not easily anyway. Not even in Heaven. Especially not when someone, usually Benny, talks him into having a few beers himself just to turn around and make him go sing something onstage. It doesn’t happen very often, but he’s grateful for whoever covers for him when it does. Tonight, it’s Cassie.</p><p>“Oh, come on Dean, it’s fine. I don’t mind one bit.”</p><p>“No, she really doesn’t, brotha.” Benny shoots Cassie a wink that immediately tells Dean that a) he’s lost this argument already and b) Benny is <em> definitely </em> going to owe her a <em> huge </em> favor since he got her to agree to help him do this.</p><p>“At this point, I don’t understand why I even let you into my saloon on karaoke nights anymore if you pull this shit every time. Go find a better crowd to rile up.” </p><p>“Where do you think the best party in Heaven is, <em> cher </em>?” Dean rolls his eyes, letting his friends trail him like hound dogs as he serves a table right next to the stage. A mistake, in retrospect.</p><p>“Oh, you know you love us,” Cassie laughs, hip-checking him only to have to help catch an empty beer bottle she knocked from his tray. It’s true, he does love them, even though they can be such asses sometimes. Like now. </p><p>She takes the tray from him and shoves him toward the now- empty stage. “Go. Have fun, kiddo,” she grins.</p><p>“I’m like, a year older than you and half a  foot taller than you,” he teases, finally giving in and climbing up the two small steps onto Rocky’s makeshift stage. “Song request, anyone?” he yells into the crowd. Multiple people yell various songs of various genres, most of which he’s unfamiliar with, but one really catches his ear.</p><p>“<em> Good Ol’ Boys </em>,” Sam calls as he walks through the door, a shit-eating grin on his face and grocery bags hanging from either hand. As much as Dean may hate his little brother - Sam’s getting the ass whooping of his life for this one, the little shit - he really does like the song. </p><p>Cas - also just arriving, also deserving of an ass-kicking - finds an empty seat at the bar and kicks back, ready to watch the show (Currently, Sam is Cas’ best friend because Cas <em> also </em> really likes hearing Dean sing this song. Also because Sam and Cas are total nerds and cause so fucking much chaos whenever Dean lets them out of sight for more than five minutes. If you take a quick peek at the stage, you’ll see that Dean is already terrified of what might have happened as a result of a fifteen minute supply run). Once the music gets going and he makes it through the first verse, Dean finds himself letting go and getting lost in the rhythm of some good old fashioned rock’n’roll. Benny and Cassie laugh about <em> something </em> over in the corner, Sam spins Eileen around in time to the music, and Cas watches Dean, a stupid smile on his face that Dean can’t help but mirror. He’s been through so much. He thinks he can let go for just a few minutes. All the bad is in the past now. That was that. And this is now.</p>
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